Unforgiven
by waddiwasiwitch
Summary: There are some things that are difficult to forgive. Roy Mustang can't forgive himself for his sins. On trial for his war crimes, he's intent on seeing this out. Riza Hawkeye is equally crippled by her part in Ishbal and fear of losing him. Heavy on Roy/Riza and Winry/Ed. Warnings for Major Character Death, mentions of suicide and depression. Day Three: FMA Week 2015 on Tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and co.

This is my first forray into writing fic for this fandom. I hope that you consider the characters to be credible, but please bear in mind that this is a stressful situation that would cause them to act more emotionally and less rationally than normal. An emotional Riza is not unprecedented, given her state when she thought that Lust had killed Roy. Another important note to bear in mind is the motivations and actions of a character don't necessarily speak for my own opinions. It is simply my idea of how they would act and feel in a particular situation.

"Part 1 - Monday" was writen for Tumblr's FMA week.

Prompt: War

Part One: Monday 18th 1925:

**Roy Mustang**

Every single person in Amestris knew just how monumental the trial of the Flame Alchemist was. It was being broadcast live on the country's most popular radio station and there were representatives from all the media outlets in Amestris. Court room Number One was completely silent, the occupants holding their breath for the outcome. The trial was the first one under Amestris' brand new democracy and it had been brought forward given the defendant's identity as the former Führer. All eyes were on the judge's bench in the centre of the room.

Judge William Hakuro addressed the black haired man sitting in the centre of the room, "Mr Mustang, how do you plead?"

"Guilty - I can't deny it." In the dock, Roy Mustang sat up ramrod straight, ever the soldier. His voice even, he continued, "From the moment I returned from Ishbal I've carried these sins with me. Since the war I sought to redeem myself and do what I believed was right. However, if the people find me guilty they have that right."

Mustang had always had the gift of charisma and the ability to capture the attention of any room he walked into. He'd fought against Homunculi and in civil wars, but this was a new environment to him. He was surprised his voice didn't betray his uneasy mind.

Judge Hakuro nodded, "Thank you, Mr Mustang. Have you anything else to say?"

"No Your Honour," Roy replied.

The murmuring in the courtroom began, a low buzzing around him. The room was circular with the judge's bench and the seats of the jury in the middle of the room surrounded by uniform benches for the spectators. The seating was raised in tiers giving the impression of the crowd looking down on the defendant. That certainly wasn't an accident; it was meant to intimidate and subdue. Mind games: Roy knew all about those. The metal frame in front of his chair held his hands apart from one another in an effort to prevent him using his alchemy, while his feet were chained together.

"Silence!" The judge's words cut through the chattering and the room was silent once more. Hakuro turned to Roy once more.

"Mr Mustang," he began.

Roy's head snapped up and he met the man's gaze. It was strange to be addressed as Mr when he had been addressed by his military title for his entire adult life. He was no fool, recognising it as part of the performance he was to fulfil even though his rank was never mentioned. He was Mr Mustang, not Fuhrer or even Brigadier General or Colonel despite the fact he was wearing his full military uniform. Then that had been one of the conditions he'd been set by the government when he had handed himself over to be tried.

"The jury will consider your plea and we'll reconvene shortly." Hakuro turned to face the group of men and women to his left. "You're dismissed. Please remember you don't need to have unanimous agreement. Come back as soon as you have a verdict."

The jury rose and Roy expected the crowd to follow suit to avail of the temporary reprieve, but it seemed everyone was expecting a swift decision as very few got up to leave, although he supposed there were those who were afraid they would lose their seats. He could feel the stares of the crowd; he wondered if this was how the animals in a zoo felt. Everyone had an opinion on the Flame Alchemist. Some would say he was cold and unfeeling; others brave and strong. At this moment, Roy didn't feel any of these; he was terrified.

During the course of the three day trial, Roy didn't spare a glance for the jury, the reporters or even the curious members of the public, many of whom were hungry for drama. Instead, he kept his eyes on his friends and those he loved apart from the times when he was addressed directly. Several of his friends, co-workers and enemies had been cross examined. His supporters had done their best for him. Although, the case against him needed little embellishment, the many enemies he had garnered were out for his blood. He had not been given the chance to defend himself from any of the slurs that were made against his character and reputation by many of his enemies and those that sought to profit from his misfortune. Many of these revolved his relationships with his subordinates Riza Hawkeye and Edward Elric. He'd had to bite down hard his tongue to prevent an expletive and settled for grinding his teeth instead. Thankfully, the judge had reacted quickly on those occasions demanding that the witnesses desist on speculating on anything that wasn't directly relevant to the case at hand, proving himself more impartial than his surname would imply. However, Roy was under no illusion that the man regarded him in a positive light, but it did seem that he didn't hold with sullying the reputation of others as means of bringing the Flame Alchemist off his high horse. He was grateful for the man's professionalism especially as he could have sworn some of the more temperamental members of old Team Mustang voiced very loud disapproval and even threats during the proceedings. If it wasn't for the Judge, he could have been joined by his former subordinates in prison. Roy took a moment to look around him. The room was no longer silent and hushed conversations were taking place throughout the room. The unit that had been affectionately dubbed Team Mustang sat together, getting their strength from one another, giving him what he needed to keep it together. He had no other choice; he had to do it for them, and particularly for her. For Riza.

Riza Hawkeye was dressed immaculately in a white blouse and a black skirt, her blonde hair was down around her shoulders instead of up in her trademark style. She looked as dreadful as he felt; the red around her eyes spoke of little or no sleep, her face was pale and gaunt like she hadn't been eating properly, and then, most disconcerting of all, there were her eyes themselves. Her amber eyes were devoid of emotion and lacked their usual spark. His heart constricted in his chest, but he managed to maintain his stoic expression, although his fingers itched to snap and burn something. Jean Havoc and Alphonse Elric were sitting on either side of her like two dutiful sentries, looking as grim as she did. Havoc looked like he was attending a funeral in his best suit; it had been years since Roy had seen him in non-military formal wear. The scowl on his usually cheerful face made him seem older somehow. Alphonse was also wearing a suit and a solemn expression, his hand on Riza's arm. Roy managed a small, fond smile. The one thing he could count on in this whole affair was that they would rally and protect one another like family especially when he could no longer offer them his protection. The other members of his loyal team were on a row on the other side of the aisle to Riza, Havoc and Alphonse. Seated on the outside of the bench, Kain Fuery looked close to tears, soft hearted as he was. Right beside him, Heymans Breda was glaring openly at nobody in particular. On Breda's other side, Vato Falman looked more serious than normal, which was saying something seeing as serious was his default expression. Unlike Riza and Havoc, all three were in military uniform. His team had never failed him, despite the danger he brought into their lives. And he was so grateful for their presence especially now when their support for him could land them in trouble, especially Fuery, Falman and Breda, who remained in the military. He hoped they knew just how thankful he was. They had done so much for him, been so brave and strong. Right behind the men sat his aunt Chris Mustang, better known as Madam Christmas, sitting haughty and proud. She caught his gaze and nodded at him; he felt a rush of affection for the older woman and as ever was grateful for her quiet, strong support. Right next to her was his old friend the Strong Arm Alchemist, Alex-Louis Armstrong. As if in juxtaposition to Roy's aunt, Armstrong was sniffling heavily into his handkerchief. Unable to stomach the sight of his friend's pain, he looked one row over, where Doctors Tim Marcoh and Robert Knox were side by side with equally stony expressions, their heads bent together in conversation, and he could hear a sharp tut from Knox. To his surprise, right next to the doctors was Winry Elric with no sign of her husband Edward. Roy was a little disappointed to not see his old subordinate there. Edward had attended the previous two days of the trial but Roy knew the former Fullmetal Alchemist was angry at him for letting this happen. His former subordinate seemed to think Roy was on some sort of long winded suicide mission. Roy wished he could explain; it wasn't that he longed for death or that he was ready to leave behind those he loved. Rather, it was an acceptance that he had committed crimes so heinous that he deserved death. So he spent those years on his road to becoming Führer, trying to be a better man and to make amends for his crimes. He helped restore Ishbal on the way, but no matter how much he tried to balance the scales, he could never save as many souls as he had doomed. There could be no equivalent exchange, and for that reason he would let the people of Amestris decide his fate. And if they chose death for him, he would meet it, maybe not welcomingly but with no resistance. He owed the dead that much at least.

According to the clock on the wall by the door, only one hour had passed since the jury and judge had left the room. It felt a lot longer than that. Given that they hadn't been dismissed and told to return tomorrow, it shouldn't be much longer before a verdict would be given. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Sure, he wanted this whole farce over, but as long as the trial was in progress there still a little hope. It was foolish, selfish even given his bloody hands. Despite what many believed, he was still human, a very flawed and terrified one. He was also incredibly uncomfortable; the chair was hard on his butt and his hands and ankles chafed from being bound. There was no chance of him running even if he wasn't restrained; Roy Mustang always kept his word. The real reason for the humiliation was all for show, to emphasise the fact that this new administration was different from the one that went before. It wasn't supposed to be this way, his sacrifice was meant to mean something. The only consolation was that his subordinates were safe and would not be prosecuted for war crimes. In his role as Hero of Ishbal he had destroyed many souls, so any soul he could save now was precious. He had hoped that the newly established democracy would look a little more stable by the time he would be tried for his crimes. However, the new administration were adamant to close the loophole of the Flame Alchemist as quickly as possible. He surmised it was because he had a lot of support among the regular people of Amestris and had the support of number of the higher ups in the military. His hands were trembling he realised. He was getting some wary looks from the guards behind him as if they were afraid he was going to incinerate them all. He concentrated on stopping the trembling in his fingers. He wasn't going to let his enemies take his composure as well; it was the one thing that was still within his power and he hated to relinquish control to anyone. His eyes swept the room again and he gathered strength from the sight of his old team. He never would have gotten anywhere without them. He tried to protect them all to the best of his ability and if the verdict didn't go his was today, then he would be leaving them behind, where they could not follow. He knew of at least one who might be tempted to follow him. His heart ached at the thought of Riza throwing her life away like that, but she had nearly done it before after that busty Homunculus skewered him to the point of death. His blood felt like ice to even think about Riza doing such a thing. He fixed his gaze on her, she was always able to read his face better than he could himself and he hoped her talent didn't let her down this time. She met his gaze bravely, showing little emotion, but knowing her as well as he did, he could see what it cost her, how much pain he was putting her through.

_I love you_.

Those three little words had never passed between them. They never needed them, their attachment clear in their actions instead of their words. She let out a little sob, but she didn't look away. Even from this far, he could see the beginning of tears in her eyes and it took every ounce of his strength not to break down himself.

Moments later, it was like he had imagined the tears, she was composed once more. His Riza was incredibly strong, she would be okay. Once she knew she was needed, she wouldn't follow.

Because she had to survive.

Because he had enough blood on his hands, he couldn't have any more especially hers.

Because she was meant for great things, meant for love and happiness - things that he had wanted to give to her but never could. He only brought pain and loss and guilt into her life; their relationship was never an equivalent exchange; she always gave far more than he could. And he had let her down, again and again.

His blood stained hands were never meant to touch something so precious. And that's what she was to him: precious.

Very few knew who Riza Hawkeye was even though she was his shadow for most of his career. They might recognise her face, but it was his that they remembered. He was the Flame Alchemist, nobody would forget him. He had been the Hero of Ishbal, then the uppity colonel with an eye for the ladies before he had shown his mettle during the Promised Day. From that moment on, he knew he had a lot of enemies in the military. He was the one who had murdered thousands with a simple snap of his fingers. She might have pulled the trigger as a sharpshooter, though there was no way her sins were in his league. He knew she felt different and she saw his crimes as hers as well as her own. Nonetheless, he knew he was the reason her innocence was tainted.

She joined the military in an effort to help his foolish and naïve cause and earned killers eyes just like his. He was the one who convinced her to give him her father's research.

His idealist and naïve words had prompted her to put her trust in him and he had let her down. He knew without a doubt that Berthold Hawkeye would have killed Roy himself when he had returned from Ishbal had he been alive.

Somehow, Riza had been able to convince him to hold on and pursue his goals for the greater good. He knew he would have died at his own hand years ago if it hadn't been for Riza and Maes.

He had always needed her more than she needed him. She could live on without him, but there was no way he could have survived without her.

There was a creak from the door and when Roy looked over at the door Edward Elric was walking in. The former alchemist glared at him and despite himself and the situation he was in, Roy couldn't help the little smirk on his face. Ed, ever the same pain in the ass. It was good to see one of his friends treating him the same disrespect as usual even in the most trying of circumstances. It was reassuring somehow to find some semblance of his former life in this extraordinary situation. The blond haired young man stood at the back of the room and leaned against the wall as all of the seats were taken. Ed nodded to him, his way of showing his support Roy supposed. He noticed Winry's head turn and notice her husband. She had a soft smile on her face when she turned around. Roy was glad those two had each other even as a small twinge of jealousy hit him. At least, Ed had a happy ending after all he had been through. Riza and he would never get that chance to have the picket white fence and the two point five kids. He stubbornly shoved that thought away. It wasn't fair to be jealous of Ed being happy; Riza and he chose to be married to the military, to the cause of creating a better country. He squashed that sense of melancholy. If you never truly had something, you could hardly lose it. No - that type of happiness was elusive, always just out of reach for the pair of them.

A sudden shuffling of feet brought Roy out of his musing; the jury and judge were returning and the excited chattering in the room increased in decibels. Roy's heart hammered in his chest and his throat went dry. His breathing quickened and his fingers were trembling once again. This time the guards paid them no mind, seeming as anxious to hear the verdict as he was.

_Get hold of yourself, Mustang._

He forced himself to slow his breathing and balled his fists hard so that his nails were digging into his palms.

Once the judge and the jury were finally seated, the judge hammered his gavel in an effort to ensure silence once again. Roy could feel the eyes of the whole room swivel between him and the judge.

"Mr Mustang," Judge Hakuro addressed him. "We have heard of the extent of the evil you committed, heard from the victims, those who lost loved ones and those who were injured through your alchemy. Over the last few days, we've even seen photographic evidence of the horrors many witnessed. Despite all this, you claim that you did not want to do these things, but you once never walked away either."

Roy sat up straight and kept his eyes on the judge even as he bowed his head a little, accepting the truth of the man's words.

"You may have voiced your disapproval at times," the judge continued, "but you always followed orders. You count Major Armstrong and Doctor Marcoh among your supporters, but they both did what you couldn't: run. It was at great cost to them both, Armstrong ruined his military career and Marcoh deserted, living the life of a fugitive for so long."

It was true, something that haunted Roy ever since. Even when he wasn't having nightmares about the massacre, there were times for no apparent reason when the guilt would eat at his soul.

"You on the other hand were dubbed the Hero of Ishbal and were able to seek promotion through the ranks. We can't deny that you played a pivotal role during the Promised Day and helped Amestris reach a democracy."

The judge stopped talking and took a drink of water, before continuing, "There are many that speak very highly of you. Führer Grumman for one and even General Olivier Armstrong had positive words to say about you. You have done many good things, but can these outweigh your crimes?"

Hakuro turned to the Jury, "How did you find the defendant?"

The tension in the room was suffocating and Roy held his breath as a tall, willowy woman stood up and spoke. "We have no doubt that Mr Mustang is guilty of war crimes."

There was a moment of utter silence before it was shattered by a loud gasp from the onlookers.

The judge fixed his beady eyes on him, "Mr Mustang, you know the penalty for war crimes. As such, you're hereby sentenced to death. The matter of how has yet to be decided. To your credit you never denied your guilt and that will be taken into account."

There was a rushing sound in his ears and the room spun around him. He closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing and lower his racing heartbeat. The verdict was not unexpected, but he was not truly prepared for the reality of it. How could anyone truly be?

"The Council will be in session tomorrow to decide how you will be executed. Have you any last words?"

Roy's tongue felt like lead, he moved his lips but no sound came out. He simply shook his head. Words failed him. It was a first. He thought he was prepared for this outcome, truly believed it would come to pass. And yet, it still managed to steal the breath from his lungs. A guttural scream erupted in the room.

He could recognise that cry anywhere and it cut right through him, lifting him from the fog. _Please don't!_

Pulling himself together, his eyes sought to find Riza. The sight of her so visibly shaken at the verdict and the knowledge that it was all for him hit him all at once, like his heart had been ripped right from his chest. _I'm not worth it!_ Her face was ashen and he could see the anguish in her eyes, pain he'd not seen since Ishbal.

"No, you can't," Riza protested. "I'm as much to blame as he is."

She jumped to her feet, and Havoc and Al reacted quickly and grabbed her by the upper arms before she could do anything hasty.

"It's okay," Roy heard Havoc say. The man's free hand rubbed her back.

"No it's not," Riza snapped and pulled away from Havoc's grip.

_I can't let you do this._

"Riza," Roy said sharply in his most commanding voice.

She froze and her gaze met his across the courtroom. As she gazed into his eyes the rest of the room slipped away and it was just them. He steeled himself to say what could be the last thing he ever uttered to the woman whom he could never love like he wanted to.

"I let you watch my back, now let me watch yours."

These words were nothing like the ones he wanted to say, but he knew they were more important than any impotent declarations of feeling, useless when their chances had been lost and serving only to cause pain.

Nonetheless, the words seemed to touch a deeper part of her, just as he had known they would. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She shook her head, "It wasn't meant to be this way. You can't ask me to do this, Roy. You can't ask me to simply walk away."

Her voice was breaking and she spoke in a higher pitch than he was used to. He knew it was hurting her to hear his plea, but he also knew that she would listen and he had never shied from refraining from stating the unpalatable truths. She had promised to follow him into hell. And she had when she followed him to Ishbal, but she couldn't continue to follow him now. Her clenched jaw and balled fists he could deal with; it was the lost and grief-stricken look in her eyes that scared him. He wouldn't let her throw her life away for his, he wasn't worth it.

Steeling himself, he puffed out his chest, putting on the biggest performance of his life, "That's an order, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

She would have staggered backwards had Alphonse and Havoc not been supporting her. "You bastard." He didn't actually hear her whisper, but he could see her mouth form the words. _Please don't let those words be the last words she ever says to me_, he thought desperately. She extricated herself from Havoc and Alphonse and fled the room. Roy automatically struggled against his bonds, wanting to get to her, to comfort her and tell her lies that it was all going to be alright. God, he wanted to hold her and kiss her and never let her go. But it was Alphonse that followed her from the room and Roy stopped struggling realising the futility of it. She needed to get away from him and he was the last person she needed to see. Besides, if he tried to leave, the guards would probably just shoot him in the head now and be done with it. Alphonse was a good young man with a big heart and he would take her home away from this circus. He might as well let the whole thing play out, his last big plan lurching its way to the inevitable conclusion. However, this time there was only an endgame, no plans for the future. He just hoped everyone would be able to move on when the time came. He reflected darkly on how things turned out. Sometimes, you got exactly what you asked for, and this was one of the occasions. He'd succeeded in becoming Führer, and in one of his first acts he declared his intent to hold an election to make Amestris a democracy and abolished the State Alchemist programme. This proclamation was met with horror by the military and excitement by the civilian population. Nevertheless, the fear of the unknown hung over the country; you couldn't turn the country into a democracy overnight. It took a number of years to lay the foundation; Local councils were created in all parts of the country to provide localised decision making. When the election was held, the country voted overwhelmingly to move forward into a new era. He had also signed away any rights he had to diplomatic immunity, paving the way for this trial. Now his literal death was going to be used to propel the country metaphorically into that new era. Pity, he wouldn't live to see it.

**Riza Hawkeye**

Riza Hawkeye's mind worked a mile a minute. She didn't speak a single word to Alphonse on the drive back to her apartment. To his credit he seemed to realise that she didn't want to speak to him and said nothing, though he occasionally glanced at her worriedly from the driver's seat. She kept her gaze fixed straight in front of her, not that she was really seeing anything at all.

Her thoughts kept on returning to Roy's words earlier in the courtroom. "I let you watch my back, now let me watch yours."

Of course, the worst part was that Roy was right, but for that one moment she hadn't cared for repercussions, hadn't cared that if she revealed her link to Roy's flame alchemy that people would want to use the secrets her father tattooed on her back; all she cared about was not letting Roy die without her, because the world without him didn't make sense and she didn't want it to.

_There's someone I have to protect. _

Why couldn't she protect him? Why? She was meant to protect him.

Oh - she knew the truth of it, but that didn't mean that she could accept logic. Sometimes, emotion trumped over her cool hard logic even for her. The day he handed himself over to be tried, she'd demanded she be tried along with him and was met with laughter by the arresting officers. It was made quite clear that the new government didn't care about her. She knew it would be different if they knew the secrets that were carved on her back and that she helped create the Flame Alchemist. That naive wish to make Amestris a better place had cost them both and Ishbal dearly. There was a time when she thought she might hate Roy after she first saw the devastation he caused with his flames in Ishbal. She'd wondered how he could have taken her gift and abused it like that? However, when she first set her eyes on the tired soldier in desert and really looked at him, she saw the Roy she knew was in there in that shell, and he was in pain, hating every minute of the destruction he was reaping. It made her wonder if he hated her a little too for giving him her father's research and for believing that he could make this bleak unforgiving world a better place. He never said such a thing, not that she thought he ever would even if it were true. Instead in the aftermath of Ishbal, they found a way forward together, and somehow in their mutual self-hatred and guilt they promised they wouldn't rest until that idyllic Amestis they dreamed of was a reality.

"We're here."

She was so lost in her thoughts that Alphonse's words, quiet as they were, caused her to jump in the passenger seat. The car had come to a stop outside her apartment block and he was holding the car door open for her. Nodding in thanks, she reached down for her handbag lying between her feet before stepping out of the car.

Riza's fingers shook as she tried to open the door to her apartment. Alphonse was at her back hovering and she couldn't help the jolt of irritation at being babysat. She had seen the long and pointed looks between Alphonse and Jean during the trial, and heard their hushed whispers when she was fleeing the room. Her trembling fingers finally did what she bid them and the door opened with a creak. Riza was relieved that the young man hadn't had to open the door for her after all. She had been sure he had been about to offer.

Taking a steadying breath, she pulled herself up straight and turned about and faced him. "You can go now, Alphonse," she said quietly. "I'll be fine."

The young man raised a brow, "Nice try Miss Hawkeye. You're not going to get rid of me that easily. Besides, I made a promise that I'd look after you."

"I don't need your protection," she said. There a little or no bite in her voice, she knew he meant well. "I know you're more than capable of protecting yourself, but I do think you need a friend right now." His mouth was in a firm line and his golden eyes kind. "I don't care what you say. I'm staying."

Recognising the stubborn Elric glint in his eye, she sighed, too worn out emotionally and physically to argue with the well-meaning young man. She knew full well who had asked him to watch out for her; Everyone was rallying around, suffocating her in their attempts to keep an eye on her. She hated it. Didn't they realise that she needed to be alone to process everything? She had to be strong. She couldn't afford to let them see how this was tearing her apart at the seams.

Roy has once told her: _You're Riza Hawkeye and you can do anything. _

_I wish I believed that, Roy._

"Miss Hawkeye?"

She blushed realising she was standing in the doorway, leaving Alphonse with nowhere to go. He had no coat and it was a cold winter's day. He must be freezing and suddenly she realised she was cold too. She had goose bumps on her skin beneath the blouse.

She rubbed her arms in an effort to warm herself. "Sorry – I'm not quite myself." Her voice sounded weak to her ears.

She walked through the door and Alphonse followed her inside. She conceded silently maybe it was good thing he escorted her home with the way her mind was wandering. Not quite herself? What an understatement! She felt like half of her was missing and she wondered if she would ever feel whole again.

The front door opened right into an open plan living room and kitchen; Riza's apartment was sparsely furnished but very functional, small but cosy, and although not full of pretty things it was quite homely.

"Make yourself at home, Alphonse," she said, gesturing to the lumpy couch in the living area. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"No, thanks." He shook his head, "A glass of water would be great though."

She took two tall glasses from the cupboard, went over to the small, silver sink and poured the two glasses full of water. When she came back into the living area, Alphonse wasn't sitting down. He was looking at the photo she kept over the red framed fireplace. It was a picture of the Mustang unit on the day Roy had been named Führer – Roy in the middle, she on his right surrounded by Havoc, Fuery, Falman and Breda. _The thing we had all worked for but the beginning of the end_, she reflected darkly. _Maybe I should throw it away?_

"Feels like an age even if it was only five years ago," she said, trying for a flippant tone.

Alphonse jumped guiltily, noticing she had walked in and clumsily put the picture back where he found it.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and he took the glass from her outstretched hand.

She shrugged, "I said make yourself at home."

The young man was still blushing. She decided to make one last ditch attempt at getting rid of her unwanted guest.

"I'm really not in the mood for company right now. There's no need to drag you down with me."

He plopped down on the couch, "Sorry Miss Hawkeye. As I said earlier I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought as much," she said woodenly. "I need some time to myself right now, so I'm going to go to my bedroom."

His mouth opened to object, but she didn't give him a chance and turned her back on him. She knew it was rude, but for once she couldn't bring herself to care.

She didn't look back, but the young man's gentle voice drifted into the room as she closed the door. "I'll be here if you need me. Let me know if you need anything, anything at all."

The moment the door closed behind her, she stood at the door for a moment and rested her forehead on the wood. _What a terrible day?_ Her head was aching, her eyes were stinging and her limbs felt heavy. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt an irrational urge to scream. She squashed the impulse mercilessly, an action that was well practiced through the years. This had to be some terrible nightmare. She had never wanted to live in a world without Roy Mustang; it would be a lesser place without his idealism. Some would no doubt scoff at her description of the man that had razed Ishbal. She knew better; anyone who accused Roy of being unfeeling didn't really know him at all. He protected those he loved with a fierceness and put the welfare of his country above his own. His passion burned like the flame alchemy that he was so adept at, and just like the alchemy it was dangerous and consuming. As a child she had imagined that love would like coming home, comforting, reassuring and steadfast. In truth, she found her love for Roy to be a much more malleable thing – destructive, painful and passionate, the depth of her feeling much more than she could ever have imagined. Very few people would describe the First Lieutenant as fierce but when it came to Roy Mustang she was. They might make each other weak, but they made each other strong too. As much as she loved him, she recognised his faults too. The man was an impossible procrastinator when it came to paperwork, too stubborn for his own good and though he might be not quick to anger he was slow to forgive, himself above all others. And he asked so much of those who followed him, especially her.

Roy's words to her from the trial swam in her head once more. _"I let you watch my back, now let me watch yours."_

She had dedicated her life to helping him become the Führer of Amestris, and as his aide and bodyguard she had been willing to lay her life on the line for his and she had on several occasions. She couldn't this time. Of course, his words had another meaning: a code of reminding her of the secrets she had on her back. His last order to her was to make sure the secrets of flame alchemy would remain safely hidden away. It was a new low even for her commanding officer. Riza felt so angry, so hurt and above all afraid. She knew what Roy was doing when he demanded she let him protect her back. If she was to be interned and the wrong person took an interest in her back, then all they had done would be for naught. Maybe what they had done already had been for nothing anyway; He was a fool to think that his death would make anything better. She wanted for him to live, for her, for Amestris. Although, she was never afraid to tell him when she thought he was wrong, she knew she had no right in this instance when they jointly planned to be tried for their crimes against Ishbal, but in the end he betrayed her by ordering her to stay behind. Although, she had always walked a step behind, he was getting further and further away from her. Their joint annihilation of Ishbal was the devil on his shoulder pushing him forward to his death.

_Oh Roy, you stupid noble bastard. _

A tear leaked from her right eye and she wiped it away savagely. Riza was grateful no longer to have to bear the sympathetic gaze of the younger Elric. She could hear Alphonse moving around in the living room. It sounded like he was nervously pacing around the room. She wished he would go away and leave her alone.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he called, "Are you alright in there?"

_What sort of a stupid question was that?_ Of course, she wasn't and she never would be again. _Oh Roy._ She sniffled, before clearing her throat.

"I'm fine Alphonse," she lied.

"No - you're not," his response came through the door. "And that's okay. I'm here for you if you need me."

Contrary to her wishes, he wasn't going anywhere soon. If Roy could see him now trying to boss her around, he would smirk at her and utter some sarcastic remark that he was spending too much time with his brother.

_Oh Roy!_ She always knew this was a possibility, but they were supposed to go down together. She never dreamed she would be spared going on trial and have to watch him die. Whenever she imagined that distant future, she never would have thought that he alone would be executed when she was equally guilty. And then he had the gall to ask her to continue on without him, emotionally blackmail and manipulate her into walking out of that courtroom and leaving him behind. Her father's fiery secret and the burden of guilt they shared with one another tied them closer to one another than anyone else. _Why was he the only one that was being punished?_

Even Maes couldn't understand Roy sometimes. Kind and loving Maes who died fighting for the good of Amestris. Maybe if he was here he could have talked some sense into Roy, made him fight a little harder. Could he have stopped him from signing away his diplomatic immunity? Maybe it was a selfish thought that she wasn't enough for him? She would never be enough for noble, guilt ridden Roy Mustang and yet that was part of the reason she loved him so much, but it hurt. Hurt like her heart being torn from her chest, like her lungs were struggling for breath and like the waiting tears that tore at the corner of her eyes. Her legs went weak and she let herself slump to the ground as she finally let herself cry. Her tears were silent apart from the odd inevitable sniffle. There was no gut wrenching sobs for Riza Hawkeye. She gathered her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them hiding her streaming face in her knees.

Riza wasn't sure how long she spent crying but she was eventually interrupted by the gentle voice of Alphonse.

"Miss Hawkeye?"

She rubbed at her sore eyes with her hands, her chest burnt from her crying fit and she sniffed.

Alphonse was calling her name again. "Miss Hawkeye? Would you like some tea?"

"Go away," she replied, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

Even though she knew he loved Roy too, she couldn't deal with someone else's pain right now, her own was more than enough. She heard the sound of movement outside the door and she sighed in relief when he appeared to let it go. Somehow, she got herself to her feet. She went into the adjoining bathroom and she looked in the mirror. She ran the tap and splashed water in her face. She had to get it together, she was acting like he was already dead. He wasn't dead yet, she had to remember that. She took a deep breath, deciding she needed to see him. He had rebuffed her last two requests for a visit, which had pained her, but surely he wouldn't now, not when this could be the last time they saw one another. She knew what he was doing, trying to push her away in some ill -conceived attempt to protect her. He always said she was special. He thought she could cope with anything. How could she cope with this? Her eyes welled up with tears again. This time she was unable to prevent sobs from escaping her. She made her way back into her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow to smother her cries. Her eye caught the old photograph that had pride of place on the bedside table, an old picture from shortly after Ishbal. In it she, Maes and Roy had their arms around one another. She sat up and swiped angrily at the photograph in anger, the sound of smashed glass filled the room as it hit the floor. She rose off the bed and stood up unsteadily, picking up the broken frame from the floor. She felt a sharp pain as on her finger collided with a piece of broken glass. She welcomed the physical pain as a distraction from the emotional maelstrom. She ran her finger over Roy's face and when she removed her finger a drop of blood fell on the picture. The image of the blood and Roy's visage caused her to drop the frame to the ground once again. Rage filled her veins and the books on her bookshelf were the next to meet her wrath and then she grabbed several and hurled them to the other side of the room. She picked up the stupid ugly vase Roy had bought her as a private joke after the Promised Day and threw it at the door with a strangled sound. It hit the wood by the Alphonse's head.

"Alphonse!" she cried startled by his quiet but sudden appearance.

His golden eyes were wide in shock, but they quickly turned to concerned. She blushed with shame and the realisation that he'd charged into the room when he heard her loss of control. More importantly, it served to calm her a little and she took a step backward and plopped back on her bed.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay," he said, his hands held up as he approached her. "Can I do anything for you?"

She suppressed a bitter laugh.

"Stupid thing to say, I guess," he admitted with a shrug of shoulders.

She looked to the floor again, feeling uneasy at being around somebody when she was feeling so out of control. She felt the mattress dip beneath her as he took a seat beside her.

"It's not fair," she said.

He didn't say anything, just put his arm around her shoulder. Her grief warred very briefly with her sense of propriety when he tried to pull her into an embrace before she conceded. He pulled her against his chest and she was crying once again, impropriety be damned. She could feel his shirt getting damper underneath her cheek and he rubbed circles on her back.

"It's wasn't meant to be this way," she whispered. "I was supposed to be there."

"I know," he said softly.

She pulled back from him, placing her hands on his chest to create a distance. "You don't know, Al! You'll never know."

"I care about him too, you know," Alphonse interjected, hurt. "And you. I'm just trying to help."

"Of course, you are," she said a little more calmly. "I'm just-"

She couldn't find the words to explain. He would never understand, because he was such a good person, unlike them.

"You don't need to apologise," he reassured her.

She had so many things to apologise for, to make amends for and to suffer for.

She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he hugged her again. She knew was worried about saying and doing the wrong thing. She could hardly blame him. Her emotions were unsteady, she felt like she was looming over a precipice. Anger was so close to the surface at the moment, but so was fear and pain. She pulled away feeling she had taken enough of the man's comfort. Even so, he remained sitting beside her.

"It's just not fair," Al said quietly. "He's a good man. I wish they could see that."

"They don't care," Riza snapped. "This is just an opportunity for his enemies to get their revenge or work their way to the top." She paused at the startled look on the young man's face. She supposed he was little taken aback at her bitterness or sharpness of her reply. "Sorry, I don't mean to take my anger out on you. I just feel so helpless. I'm supposed to be his bodyguard."

"This isn't your fault."

She shook her head, "I wish I could believe that." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he never met me or learned alchemy with my father."

Alphonse let out a little gasp. "I didn't know you knew each other so long. I suppose I should have guessed."

Riza nodded her head, "A little like you and Winry, I suppose. Though, you know I hated him when he first came."

"Really?"

"My father and I weren't exactly close. I resented the fact that he was paying more attention to a strange boy than me."

"That's understandable, I guess." He smiled softly. "Obviously, that changed. What happened?"

_He's Roy. _She smiled, "Well, I got to know him and learned he wasn't so bad after all."

The young man laughed. "I bet he's glad he met you, considering he would never have gotten any

For a moment she almost laughed too, but her face fell quickly, "It's because of me that he's in this whole mess." Her body started to tremble. She wanted to stop talking but she couldn't make her lips obey her brain.

Alphonse just looked confused by her words.

He put his hand on her shoulder, "You know you can tell me anything. I'm a good listener."

_Stop_, she thought, _Alphonse doesn't need to know this_. His concerned eyes bored through her and any resolve she had melted. She couldn't hold it in any longer even if he would hate her for her revelations.

"I'm the reason his hands are tainted in blood," she continued, her voice matching the tremors in her body. "Mine are just as drenched as his, as any crime he did with his Flame Alchemy is equally mine. Why can't I share the burden? It's not like I don't dream about their burnt corpses at night or smell decay when Havoc smokes his cigarettes."

Alphonse scrunched his nose, "I don't understand."

There was something cleansing about revealing the secrets she had held tight to for so long. "My father gave me his research on Flame Alchemy to protect and I shared it with Roy."

Alphonse's jaw dropped open and she got to her feet.

He finally found voice, "You do yourself too little credit. You're one of the kindest and strongest women I've ever known. You might have made a mistake, but you're a good person."

Once she had begun, it was like an avalanche.

She stood up and starting to pace, she hugged her chest, "He said he wanted to change the world, protect the country and make it better. He was so naïve, full of idealism back then. We both were." She looked at Al, seeing the dawning realisation in his eyes. He stood up, moved towards her and reached for her hand.

A squeeze of her hand was all she needed to the gather the courage to continue. "He changed. The old Roy was gone after Ishbal. I did too. All the horrors he committed and he witnessed are my sins too."

Her knees gave out beneath her and she let herself crumple to the floor. Alphonse sat down next to her, where she was crouched on the floor and pulled her to his chest once again. She didn't think to resist this time. The need for comfort was too great. When she finally stopped crying she grabbed his shirt.

"You can't tell anyone," she begged. "Nobody can know about this. Promise me, Al, not even your brother or your wife. For Roy. I know it's a lot to ask, but this has to remain a secret, we can't afford to let it out."

Initially, the young man looked a little reluctant at hiding something so huge from his brother.

"Please."

He nodded sadly, and it was then that she noticed the tear tracks on his face.

"Thank you," she said with feeling. "And thank you for listening."

It felt like a benediction, to be able to share her burden for the first time. Any time she tried to unburden Roy of some of his guilt, he insisted he was solely responsible. Foolish man.

"Sorry, I forgot I had this." Alphonse reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Handing it to her, he said, "You shouldn't blame yourself, you know. Either of you. What happened in Ishbal was a game manipulated by the Homunculi and you were both following orders. Besides, what about all the good you two have done since?"

"We're guilty of too much to be forgiven." Riza shook her head. "I made the decision to pick up a rifle and enlist just like I chose to share my father's alchemy."

There was nothing Alphonse could say to that. He opened his mouth to speak but he stopped.

"What do I do now?" she asked suddenly.

"You move on, take each day a day at the time."

"I don't know who I am, how to be Riza Hawkeye," she confessed. "I'm a soldier and a sharp shooter. And if all that is done, then I don't know what I'll do."

"Mustang was Führer for quite a while," the young man pointed out. "You achieved your goal already. If you were only a soldier to make him Führer, then why did you continue on?"

"Our goal was always to make Amestris a democracy," she said. "He needed me to continue to protect him." She paused, a pained expression on her face. "I can't understand why they won't put me on trial too."

"You know why," he said gently. "They want the glory of being the ones that are responsible for putting away the Flame Alchemist. They don't care about his subordinates."

"No," she laughed bitterly. "I guess not."

Tears threatened to fall once again but she bit her lip.

"How do I go on, Al?" she asked quietly. "What's left for me now?"

He smiled sadly, "I think a wise man once told my brother to get up and walk even if the road you have to follow is covered in a river of mud. You just take it a day at a time."

Her voice trailed off and she felt her cheeks redden, she hadn't confessed as much to anyone before not even any of her female friends. She turned her face away from him, disconcerted by the amount of information she had given to the young man. She had carefully guarded her relationship with Roy from anyone, but it felt freeing to unburden herself for once. Of course, Alphonse knew quite a bit about grief in his young life and it pained her to lean on him comfort. She was being ridiculous. If the Elrics could get over losing their mother as children and keep it together, she would cope with losing Roy. With a new found determination to accompany that sense of dread in her belly, she vowed she would.

Alphonse stared at her, his eyes full of compassion. "You really love him don't you?"

She tore her eyes away from Al's knowing eyes.

"We were never together," she found herself confessing, "He asked me once a long time ago if I would wait for him and I told him I would. We just had too many important things to do to let ourselves just be happy. I think he thought I might quit once he became Führer, but I couldn't entrust his protection to anyone else." She ran her fingers through her hair. "I wish-"

He let out a little laugh and she turned back to him. There was a little smirk on his face, very reminiscent of his older brother, "We always guessed, thought maybe you were flouting the fraternisation laws."

She arched an eyebrow, "Who's we? The whole team or just you and Edward?"

"The team," he said with a mischievous grin.

She rolled her eyes, "And there were bets taken, I'm sure knowing the boys."

"Don't worry I'll keep them guessing," he said with a forced smile

"You better or I'll shoot you," she warned.

Alphonse stood up and offered her a hand. She took it gratefully and got to her feet.

"Thank you again, Alphonse," she said. "Thank you for being here, but I think I'm okay now. I think I need to run a bath."

The young man nodded and got to his feet. "I'll make you a sandwich and leave it in here for you."

As he stood in the doorway, she called out, "Alphonse!"

He turned around with a frown.

"Please, it's about time you just called me Riza." She gave him a hesitant smile, "I know I've told you often enough."

The young man shrugged, "I guess I should finally listen to you."

"You should get back to your family. I'm promise you I'll be fine. Besides, if you're worried about leaving me alone for too long, Rebecca and Black Hayate will be here soon. She's picking him up from the kennel on her way home from work."

With that he gave her a small nod, turned and left the room.

Riza tried to focus her thoughts as she entered her bathroom. It had felt good to unburden herself of some of her thoughts, emotions that she had kept close to her chest. Maybe she needed to break down before she build herself back up? She couldn't possible face the following week feeling like this. She needed to pull herself together. She couldn't let Roy see her this broken or the rest of the team for that matter; she was always the strong one, who kept the whole team on track. Roy sometimes told her she was the glue that kept things together. She couldn't let Roy down now when he needed her the most. She turned on the hot water tap and let the water run in the bath. The steam filled up the bathroom as she peeled off her clothes. For so long her sense of self had been wrapped up in Roy Mustang. It wasn't healthy; she knew it. But he was the first true friend she had, the first boy she had loved, the first to break her heart when he went away to join the military and the only person to whom she had entrusted her father's secrets. When her father's alchemy and Roy's talents were exploited in Ishbal and they both fell apart with the guilt, they helped put each other back together again. Since then she had vowed to protect him and help him achieve his goals. Her life had a purpose for so long and now she would be adrift without her compass. The bath was almost full now. She turned off the tap and dipped her finger into the water to make sure it was the right temperature. With a sigh she stepped into the warmth of her bath tub. _Who am I now? _

When Riza was finished in the bathroom, she felt somewhat calmer. Alphonse had left the sandwich as promised on the dresser by her bed and her stomach rumbled again at the thought of it. She hadn't eaten all day and she finally had her appetite back. She wandered into the bedroom and bent down to pick up the plate from her dresser.

Taking a bite from the sandwich, she opened the bedroom door and she stuck her head out.

"Alphonse," she called. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah." His voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

She hesitated for a moment, then she went into the living area and she found Alphonse sitting at the table, a cup of tea in his hands. He smiled warmly at her, and she ducked his gaze and examined her nails instead.

"I wasn't sure if you would still be here." She couldn't meet his eye, feeling suddenly embarrassed about her earlier behaviour.

"Tea? Coffee?" he asked.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" she asked trying for an airy tone.

He smiled bashfully, "The water's just boiled."

He made to get up, but she shook her head, "I think I can make my own tea." She put the plate with the remains of her sandwich down on the table and grabbed her favourite mug from the cupboard. Once she had made her tea, she sat down beside him. Her stomach rumbled again and she gratefully returned to her sandwich.

The doorbell rang.

"It's probably Rebecca and Black Hayate," she said and got to her feet.

"I should probably go and see how Brother and Winry are," Alphonse admitted and stood up also.

The pair of them made their way to the door. A little bark from the other side of the door indicated that she was right in her assumption. The moment the door was opened a black and white blur flew in and jumped up on Alphonse.

"Hi boy," Al crooned rubbing Black Hayate's head.

Despite, the unusual misbehaviour of her pet, she couldn't find it in herself to chide him.

Black Hayate got off Alphonse and rambled over to his mistress instead and licked her fingers, knowing better than to jump on her without invitation. She bent down and rubbed the dog's ears.

"Hi Riza," came the friendly voice of her friend. "Alphonse, what a surprise to see you here?"

"I was keeping Miss Hawkeye company," Alphonse replied. "I thought she could use a friend."

Riza reached out and patted his arm, "Thanks for everything, Alphonse. Say hi to Edward, May and Winry for me."

He nodded, "I will." He paused for a moment, then added, "I think Brother is taking this a lot harder that he is letting on. He has a lot more respect for Mustang than he would ever admit to." He smiled, "I better be going before May wonders where I am."

It was only when Alphonse walked out the door that Riza realised that Rebecca had a suitcase in her left hand.

Rebecca caught Riza's look of surprise and smirked, "Please tell me that your lumpy sofa is comfy."

"Becca, you don't have to."

Rebecca shook her head, "I'm not taking no for an answer and you should know by that I am as stubborn as hell."

"But what about Jean?"

"Jean's a big boy. Remember what we said back in the academy – sisters before guys."

Riza could feel her eyes welling up again and she blinked away the tears before they could fall.

"Jean's a big boy and right now he understands that you need me more. Besides, it's not as if I won't see the bastard."

Rebecca dropped her suitcase to the floor and threw an arm around her, "So, how about a nice cup of coffee or are you going to make me collapse with thirst?"

Riza tried for a smile, "How's Jean?"

"Really Riza, I don't know what I see in him sometimes. You won't believe what he did this time!"

Her heart filled with love with her friend as she bustled about the kitchenette listening to Rebecca begin the woeful tale of how she caught Jean drinking milk straight from the carton and for the first time that day she had a genuine reason to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Written for Day Four for Tumblr's FMA Week 2015

Discaimer: I wish I did wn FMA bit sadly I don't

**Tuesday February 19th 1925**

**R****o****y Mustang:**

Roy sat on the small bed in the corner of the grim and pokey cell and his gaze swept the room. The four grey brick walls made him feel a little claustrophobic. Since he had handed himself over to the new government to be tried, his days had been spent in the Central prison, his hands bound before him so he couldn't practice any alchemy. The air in the cell was stale and there was a musty smell permeating the room. He shivered, feeling the goose bumps erupt on the back of his arms. The ratty little blanket on his bed didn't provide much protection from the cold and it was difficult to sleep at night. Not that he would have been able to sleep either if it was warmer. Since he had been incarcerated, he hadn't gotten a proper nights' sleep, never getting more than two or three hours together. Still, he couldn't fault his jailers; he was given three decent meals a day, although he could barely stomach more than a mouthful at mealtimes. That morning's meal of bread and butter remained untouched on the floor beside his bed.

Things had moved a lot faster than he had anticipated. One thing he hadn't anticipated had been the lack of urgency in convicting anyone else. Several former state alchemists and high ranking military officials from Bradley's administration who'd served in Ishbal had fled the country; others had used their fat pay cheques to bribe officials. All he could do now was wait around for the inevitable, little to distract him from his fate in this solitude. The door to the cell opened and a familiar prison guard walked in. Bentley was a genial looking fellow, his face was round with blue eyes framed by glasses. The man always treated him humanely and brought him news from outside the confines of the prison, something that Roy was extremely grateful for.

"You have a visitor," Bentley announced with a smile.

Roy knew the man meant well, but he couldn't muster up a returning smile. He hadn't slept a wink since the trial and he was exhausted. There may not be much to do in the cell, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the pained faces of the people he loved. He was already in a waking nightmare, he didn't need real ones too.

"Who is it?" he asked, wondering if he could put off the visitor. He really wasn't up to dealing with anybody right now.

"It's Madam Christmas," returned the guard. The guard's smile had disappeared now and he ran his hand through his greying hair. "I thought you would be glad to see her, but I can ask her to call another time if you wish."

"No need, Bentley," Roy said.

Bentley's anxious expression was replaced with relief.

"You don't know Madam Christmas do you?" Roy asked. "She doesn't take the word no seriously."

"She wanted to see you last night‚" Bentley explained. "The only way the warden could get her to leave was to promise that she could return first thing this morning. You're lucky he was willing to allow her visit you in your cell as there are no visitor rooms available this early in the day."

Roy nodded‚ "Send her in."

Bentley approached his bed. "Can we trust you not to do anything foolish if we let you have your hands unrestrained for this visit?"

Roy starred dumbly before bowing his head in acquiescence. His aunt really must have pulled out all the stops to get the warden to agree to this.

Roy froze as the guard freed his hands and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's just keep this between ourselves. I'm not really supposed to do this."

Surprised by the unexpected kindness, the alchemist looked up at the man, "Thank you."

Bentley simply inclined his head and smiled‚ "Just don't make me regret trusting you."

"I assure you I'm not about to make trouble."

Unable to look the man in the eye and see the pity that was there‚ Roy flexed his stiff arms moving his fingers one by one. He was normally restrained during the few, brief visits he had been granted, although he was generally allowed the use of his right hand only at meal times as long as he was supervised. The manacles were left on his feet, but he didn't care.

The guard picked up the breakfast plate Roy had snubbed. "Are you going to eat this?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself‚" Bentley shrugged his shoulders. "I'll just let Madam Christmas in directly."

A few moments later, the cell door opened and Chris Mustang walked in. The door clanged shut behind her and her sorrowful eyes met his. She was wearing a black dress and her favourite fur coat. He was taken aback by the red rims around her eyes and seeing this strong woman hurting on his account made him squirm with guilt, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

He stood up stiffly from the bed, "It's good to see you. Pity about the circumstances."

She ignored his pathetic attempt at a joke.

"You fool." She walked towards him and gave him an appraising look. "Look at you – you're as pale as a sheet and you're skin and bone. Are they not feeding you?"

He knew her fussing was more about his impending doom, but he played along just the same to a dance they were more familiar with.

"You know me, Madam. I've never been one for swallowing drivel. They're feeding me just fine. I just don't swallow much of it."

She arched a brow, "Roy Mustang – too good for prison cuisine – huh?"

"I learned from a certain someone to only accept the very best," he replied drily.

Instead of making her smile like he intended, he was rewarded with a watery chuckle, more tears than laughter.

Suddenly, she drew him into her arms and held him to her ample chest. "My Roy boy."

Not accustomed to physical affection from his aunt, his body went tense in her embrace for a moment before he surrendered to the comfort on offer. His heart swelled with love for the woman who raised him like he was her own son. He could smell her favourite brand of cigarette and expensive brandy on her breath as well as the spicy perfume she sprayed liberally on herself. Although, she wasn't exactly the maternal type, he never doubted that she cared for him in her own gruff way. However, she hadn't held him like this since he was a little boy, reeling from the loss of his parents and even then it had only been a few times. He couldn't prevent a treacherous tear from running down his cheek and it wasn't long before more joined it. He silently let the tears fall and trembled in her comforting embrace. He could count on one hand the amount of people he had let see him cry, completely vulnerable – Riza, Maes and the Madam. Never one to show weakness willingly, the only other time that his aunt had seen him in such a weakened state as an adult was after a particularly long bender following his return from Ishbal.

"You foolish boy," she said gruffly into his ear.

She loosened the embrace, put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them tightly. She seemed to be searching his face for something. "You always put the betterment of Amestris above all else and now your country is using you as a scapegoat. I only hope they all rot in hell."

The words spoken with a vehemence he was unused to. It was always a shock to see the woman openly reveal her emotions even to him. As a boy‚ Chris Mustang had always taught him that not to give his innermost thoughts or emotions to anyone, guard them as he would his life, as they could be used against him. Instead, he learned how to cultivate a persona, hide his motivations and true ambitions.

"I knew this was always a possibility when I began this course. I learned many things in Ishbal that didn't sit right with me."

"And you learned things you didn't like about yourself."

"True," Roy replied bitterly, a grimace on his face. "I know what my alchemy can do, the destruction I'm capable of. I thought I was protecting the country; all I was doing was aiding in a mass genocide."

Truth be told, he found it difficult to look at his reflection in the mirror and still had nightmares about that time of his life, the blood that he shed.

"I wanted to make sure nothing like Ishbal ever would happen again‚" he said. "You know this! This time it's just my head on the chopping block, the team is safe and the country is now in the hands of the people."

"The same people clamouring to take your life, boy," she reminded him. "What makes you think the country is any better off? Power corrupts, and those in power will almost always stay in power at any cost. You're naive to think otherwise."

Though Roy really didn't want to argue with her, he couldn't help snapping, "What was I supposed to do? Would it have been better to let Bradley and the Homunculi stay in power and sit and watch thousands of people dying?"

"Don't be obtuse," she chastised, releasing her hands from his shoulders. "You know full well the part I'm talking about is letting yourself be the scape goat in a show trial."

Roy rubbed his temple, hoping to ease the tension headache that was beginning to build there. "Please, just stop."

This could be the last time he spent with her and he didn't want to spend the whole time arguing in circles. Her face softened and she grabbed his hand. She squeezed it so tight it hurt; he welcomed the pain, it was a reminder he was still alive for the moment.

"You need to see Miss Hawkeye," she said‚ abruptly changing the subject. "She told me you refused to see her before the trial."

"What?"

"You heard me Roy boy."

Closing his eyes, Roy sighed and turned away from her. "No – I don't want to see her. Not yet anyway."

He opened his eyes and glared at the wall. How could he explain that the very thought of seeing Riza again after his words in the courtroom filled him with dread. He never wanted to hurt her. He only ever wanted to spare her, but it always seemed like he could only cause her pain.

"Roy Mustang, look at me!"

Reluctantly, he turned back around to face her. She sighed and put her hand to his face.

"This isn't about you." She sighed and put her hand to his face. Her finger tips traced his jaw and he leaned into her hand. "Sometimes, you're so trapped in self-loathing that you can't see what's right in front of you. That woman loves you. You can't let your Riza down."

"She's not my Riza," he said.

"Try telling her that," she said, exasperated. "It's obvious how you both feel for one another."

Roy pulled back from her and crossed his arms. "Regardless of how we feel, we are what we are."

"She needs to see you, Roy. You owe her that much at least." When she spoke again it was gently. "You'll regret it if you don't."

He knew she was right, though he couldn't help but voice his unease. "What if she hates me?" _What if she can't forgive me for leaving her behind?_

She tutted disapprovingly and rolled her eyes, "That woman could never hate you. If she still loved you despite everything you've been through, what does that tell you?"

Mustang pressed a hand against his forehead. "I can't -"

"You'll never be ready to say goodbye." Her voice broke on the last word. "The pair of you are impossible, wasting all this time fighting your feelings as well as your enemies."

"It wasn't that simple, there's the matter of the fraternisation laws," he protested.

"Pah, excuses." She waved her hand. "And now it's too late." She fixed him with her most foreboding stare. "So, make sure you tell exactly what you feel, because this memory will be all she has left of you, and you don't want to spend your last moments berating yourself for being even more of an idiot than you already are."

The Madam had a way of grounding him despite the impossible situation he found himself in; she would always treat him like a child, chastising and scolding where she saw fit. Sometimes, it was all he needed, just to let somebody else take control and make the decisions. When you're the one in charge, lives hang in the balance based on the decisions that you make.

"You know I love you," he said, a lump gathering in his throat.

He bowed his head, even now unable to look her in the eye.

To his surprise he felt his fringe being brushed aside and a soft kiss to his temple, "I'm proud of you, kid."

Roy would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid but he had made his peace with death. He had done terrible things, made foolish decisions and killed so many innocents. He didn't deserve to live after all that. Yet, he still hadn't made peace with the hurt he was causing to those who loved him. If there was one regret he had, it was that.

There was a creaking of the cell door and Bentley's head popped in. "I'm afraid I've to ask you to leave now‚ Madam."

The glare that his aunt gave the man was enough to make milk curdle.

Bentley sighed, "I'll give you another moment."

"Remember to see her, Roy." She put her hand on her nephew's shoulder and squeezed it painfully.

"Promise me."

He nodded.

"Good boy." She looked at him for a moment before embracing him again.

Roy squeezed her back tightly. They stayed like that until a little cough from the door from Bentley, who had entered again unbeknownst to them and they parted reluctantly.

"I'll have to restrain you again." Bentley sounded almost apologetic.

The Madam scowled at the guard, but stepped away from her nephew. Roy knew the man had done as much as he could and allowed Bentley to tie his hands. Roy noticed the Madam's mouth twist a little at the scene, but she kept a stoic expression.

"Let me escort you out, Madam," Bentley said politely.

She glared at the man, before turning to Roy with a softer look in her eyes.

She turned to leave without another word and Bentley followed.

Suddenly, she stopped at the door, but she didn't turn around. "I love you too, Roy boy."

She didn't have to say the words for him to know how she felt, but it was nice to hear them all the same.

Edward Elric

Edward Elric's hands were balled into fists. He wasn't sure why he bothered to read the newspaper. He knew what it was going to say: "Mustang sentenced to death. Execution planned for Friday". Reporters had been calling his phone over the past week looking for a soundbite from the famed Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed wondered if he should have given them what they wanted and be the one to speak out in defence of the bastard. That sanctimonious prick was too arrogant to fight for his life despite all the pain it was causing. It served no purpose whatsoever other than his desire to kill himself, everyone else be damned. But the bastard always did what he wanted to do. Not that Edward cared of course. He couldn't care less about the arrogant son of a bitch.

"Sparky Bastard!"

"Language, Ed. Not in front of the kids." Winry had just walked into the kitchen with their two little imps following behind.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling anything but.

Winry shook her head‚ "Why do I put up with you?"

"We make beautiful children."

Winry snorted and smacked him on the head with a tea towel.

His two favourite little people sat at either side of him. "Morning, Daddy!"

The two impish grins on their faces caused a smile to tug at his lips and he was struck at how lucky he was. His wife placed two bowls of porridge in front of the kids and Ed watched in fascination and a strange nostalgia as the two siblings gulped down their food.

"You sure are Elrics!" he said proudly.

The rolling eyes he got in response reminded him they had Rockbell blood too even though their little boy Urey and girl Trisha had both inherited his golden eyes.

Little Urey fixed his big eyes on his parents. "Can we go play when we're done with breakfast?"

Edward always found it hard to say no to that face and let Winry answer for them both.

"Sure," she said. "Once your chores are done."

"Thanks Mommy‚" the kids replied in unison.

Edward watched as the two kids got up from the table and headed off to begin their chores.

Winry waited for the door to close behind the kids before she turned her attention back to her husband. "Seriously Ed – Sparky?"

Edward's gaze went back to the front page of the paper and his good mood evaporated.

"When the shoe fits," he said acidly. "Can't call him Colonel or General Bastard anymore. What else am I supposed to call him?"

"You could try his actual name. He does have one you know." Winry sighed at the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him, "Why are you even reading that trash? It's only going to upset you."

He ignored Winry's concerned gaze. "I'm not upset!"

She sat down at the table beside him and handed him a cup of warm tea. He took the cup gratefully and took a cautious sip. Winry's eyes flickered to the picture of Mustang on the front page of the newspaper once more and she opened her mouth as if to speak.

Edward was quicker. "I know what you're going to say and there's no way I'm going."

The whole charade stunk to high heaven and he wanted no part of this sorry story. No matter how many times he told his wife why, she gave him the look of a long suffering martyr. He hated that look; it reminded him that his wife knew him better than he liked and was sure that he was doing the wrong thing. Her gaze went to the window, where she could see the kids doing their chores. Satisfied they were out of earshot, she turned back to him.

"Ed, stop pretending you don't care," Winry said gently. He could see the clenching in her jaw and he knew she was trying her best not to lose her temper.

He crossed his arms defensively, "I'm not pretending anything. I'm fucking angry."

She sighed, "Of course, you're angry, we're all angry. Roy is important to a lot of people."

Edward knew Winry well enough to know what his wife was up to, but he couldn't resist the bait. "I don't want the bastard to die, but I wouldn't go as far as to say he was important to me."

Winry wore a knowing smile, "Yes, Ed, keep lying to yourself."

He glared at his wife, "I'm not lying to myself."

She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, "What was it you were saying last night in your dreams?"

"I don't dream about that bastard," Ed said, a little too quickly, his words and tone betraying him. He knew he had just admitted to something he would rather she didn't know. But then it was Winry and she knew along with Al knew all of his secrets and loved him anyway.

"Aha!" She pointed a victorious finger at him. "You admit you dreamed about him last night."

Edward supressed a shudder, "You do realise how wrong that sounds?"

Her nose crinkled in confusion for a moment before she erupted into giggles and her laughter was contagious causing Ed's mouth to quirk upward. The lighter moment didn't last very long and the giggles tapered off leaving the young couple in silence.

"I just wish he'd do something, Win. It's not like it would be difficult to mount a rescue effort or for him to escape himself. Why is he giving in so easy?"

"I hardly call this way easy," she said. "I think he has a lot of demons from the war in Ishbal and he probably thinks this is some sort of equivalent exchange or something."

She punctuated the last few words with an eye roll.

Edward smiled again despite himself, Winry was cute when she tried to understand alchemy but the gear head never got it right. "Winry, that's not equivalent exchange."

She shrugged, "Yeah well, you alchemy freaks are confusing. Anyway, you know what I mean. This was always in the offing from when he abolished the State Alchemist programme and gave power to the Parliament. He had to know this was a possibility."

Edward thought back to the conversation he had once had with Riza Hawkeye‚ where she had laid out their pans and acceptance that it could one day mean their deaths at the hands of the new democracy.

"Are you saying he's right?"

"No," she replied with a hurt expression. "Of course not."

"Sorry Win," he said quickly before she could brandish her wrench.

"I know, idiot!" She walked around the table and wrapped her arms around him and he nuzzled into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you too," he said, winding a lock of her blond hair around one of his fingers. He was so lucky to have this amazing woman in his life. He held onto her a little tighter thinking of all the times that they could have lost one another. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that, right?"

She pulled back a little in his embrace and looked up into his face as if trying to read what was on his mind. "Of course I do." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "And you know you're best thing that happened to me too."

He nodded and gave her a forced smile. "Can I ask you something? You're a woman-"

"Glad you noticed, Ed."

He rolled his eyes, "Let me finish! You've probably much better at this sort of thing than me."

"Quit rambling," she said. "Out with it."

"That's what I'm trying to do." He bit his lip, "Do you think Mustang and Hawkeye are involved?"

Winry shrugged, "I don't know that they have been breaking the fraternisation rules or anything, but I think anyone that knows them can see how much they love one another."

That was what he thought too. "I'm worried about Hawkeye‚ he confessed. "The last time she thought he was dead, she stopped fighting and nearly let Lust kill her. I'm afraid that she won't be able to come back from this. When I think of how I'd feel in her position…"

"Don't even said it!" Winry flinched and closed her eyes.

"And he makes so angry. If he cares for her, then why isn't he doing his utmost to get out of the situation? I know if he wanted to, he probably could. The fool even signed away his right to diplomatic immunity."

"He's got a lot demons, Ed. You know what he did in Ishbal, that's gotta weigh him down. I've gotten to know Hawkeye - well as much as you can know a really private person- and she's equally messed up over the past. I asked her about Ishbal once saying I needed to know more about the war my parents got killed in and she agreed I had the right to know."

Winry gazed into space as if she was remembering some of the horrors that had been recounted to her. "She never held back and she told me how she still has nightmares about those days, all of the veterans do. His sins have to be much harder on him given the level of death he was able to cause."

"You're saying he's suicidal?"

"No – but I'm sure he believes that he deserves to be judged by the people of Amestris and he trusts that he deserves whatever punishment he is given. It's not the same thing."

"It's the same result." And he might as well, shoot Hawkeye in the head with him. He knew Winry wouldn't thank him to hear him say those words and he didn't want to hear her defend the bastard anymore. He was just like Hohenheim, running away from happiness when it was in reach.

Winry had other ideas, "You're being unfair. What do you expect him to do? The verdict's been given and if he runs he'll be running for the rest of his life. What sort of life is that?"

"At least he'd be alive."

"Maybe? Or he could get shot anyway escaping?" She looked at him meaningfully. "Or some idiot helping him could get killed? And if he did escape, what a lonely life it would be? He's too well known to be able to slip into the general population."

Edward gritted his teeth, "Why do you always have to be so reasonable?"

"Because someone has to keep you on the straight and narrow. I know you've been thinking about doing something stupid. You have responsibilities now. The kids have got to come first."

Edward glared at his wife heatedly, "I wasn't!"

She fingered the wrench in her apron pocket. "Don't tell me it never crossed your mind?"

"Okay, maybe it did briefly. I never really considered it."

She removed her hand from her pocket and Ed sighed in relief.

"Ed," she said firmly, "I think you should go and see him."

"What?" he spluttered. "Are you touched? Why in the hell would I want to go and see that good for nothing bastard?"

He knew Winry knew him too well to believe he didn't care, but she played along anyway. "I think he'd like to see you. I don't think he's been allowed many visitors. You're the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Hero of Central; they'd let you in to see him."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm not an alchemist anymore."

"Maybe not in body, but you'll always be an alchemist in your heart," she pointed out. "I mean you used equivalent exchange in your marriage proposal after all."

Edward's indignation quickly faded at that remark and his lip twitched. "You'll never let me live that down will you?"

She shook her head, "Not a chance, Ed."

Later that day

Edward slammed the door shut behind him as he walked into the visitors' room. Mustang was sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The room was large‚ but there were no other prisoners in the room. He raised an eyebrow. Even when he was facing death, the fool was still throwing his weight around. Edward walked right up to Mustang's chair and before the older alchemist knew what happened‚ he clocked him on the right side of his jaw with his fist.

"Mustang, you stupid bastard. You fucking cowardly asshole."

Mustang starred in shock at him for moment.

"What the hell, Fullmetal?" he asked finally. "How brave of you to punch a bound man?"

"Don't call me Fullmetal!" Edward snapped.

Out of the corner of his eye, the prison guards stepped away from the door. "We don't tolerate any brutality in this prison, Mr. Elric even for the Monster of Ishbal," said one of the guards before they took their places next the door.

Mustang paid no attention to the guards, concentrating on his former subordinate instead.

He rolled his eyes, "What the hell, Edward? Oh yeah – you're not a hot shot alchemist anymore. Does it make you feel better to slug a man that can't defend himself?"

Mustang spoke his name mockingly. Even though Edward knew he was trying to goad him, he couldn't help the surge of anger. The bastard knew how to press his buttons and he was angry enough about the situation anyway to bite his tongue.

"I don't care if you're bound, you deserve it," the younger man said just about managing to keep an even tone. "You're an idiot and I don't believe in mollycoddling idiots." Edward took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "I guess I learned that from you."

"Out with it, Edward. I don't have all the time in the world anymore."

The joke fell flat and Edward glared at Mustang. "Don't make jokes about this. Don't you understand? You're going to die."

"I understand more than you," Mustang said in a low voice. "You forget yourself. We have company in case you haven't noticed."

"Don't you care about what this is going to do to your friends, to Hawkeye?"

"Of course, I care," Mustang spat.

"Show it then," Edward challenged him. "Break you out of here. You know we could help you do it. You've seen what we can do when we put our minds to it."

"Don't be foolish. What would that accomplish? You could get caught and your children would have no father. I've enough fatherless children on my conscience besides adding your brood to it. Besides, even if I did manage to escape, Winry would probably murder me for letting you risk your life for me."

Edward highly doubted that, she would be more likely to murder her own husband for ripping their family apart. He felt a little guilty at going behind her back after when he told her that morning. But just because, he was talking Mustang into it didn't mean he would have to be the one to break him out anyway.

"Just leave it Edward! Concentrate on your wife and children. It's over and been decided."

"I don't like to see injustice being done‚" Edward protested.

Mustang laughed, a cold laugh that made Edward shiver involuntarily. "Injustice! You've got to me kidding me."

His dark eyes bored into Ed's golden ones with an intensity that Ed had never seen from the older man before. "You don't know, Edward. You're too noble to bend to the will of evil. I let myself be used as human weapon."

Mustang closed his eyes and when he opened them again the intensity was gone and replaced by a deadened, unfocused look.

"You didn't see the burnt remains of children and women charred beyond recognition," Mustang continued. "You never met the real Flame Alchemist; you've no idea what I'm capable of and the horrors I committed in the name of the military. Don't defend the indefensible."

Edward was speechless, he didn't know what to say, which was exactly what Mustang wanted, he knew.

Shoulders slumped, Mustang's gaze went to the floor, "There were times when I was drunk on the power until I went up close and saw what that power could do. The smell of burning flesh, the shrieks of those in their death throes."

Edward's stomach curdled. He knew all this already, he'd read the reports, watched most of trial, but to hear Roy talk in this way, the self-revulsion in his voice, was painful.

"The fact that you care is what makes you human."

Mustang didn't even acknowledge his words. He looked Edward straight in the eye once more, "You never forget. I see it every night, every day and I got off easy. I'm a monster; don't forget it, and don't waste your time on trying to rescue me."

The man's tone was tired and Edward didn't think he had ever seen the bastard look so broken. He shoved down the pity that was threatening to escape and concentrated on his anger at the man.

"That's bullshit," he roared. "What about what we've doing over the last few years, the rehabilitation of Ishbal and the fact that you finally managed to change Amestris into a democracy? Are you telling me all of that was nothing?"

"What do you mean? Of course, it wasn't for nothing. Any soul I could save was important to me considering those that I destroyed." Mustang looked down at the floor again. "But I've immolated much more people than I ever managed to save. I wrote my death sentence in Ishbal. Knowing there was something to achieve and a way to make amends kept me alive. I got where I wanted to go and now well I can die knowing Amestris is a better place."

"You're ready to die?" Edward asked incredulously.

Mustang shook his head, "Of course, I'm not. Still‚ I wanted to be tried for my crimes and face retribution. I'm not going to be a coward and spend the rest of my life on the run. What sort of a half-life is that?"

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better than no life."

"That's where we beg to differ, Fullmetal."

He let the old nickname go and he bored his eyes into his former commanding officers, "What about Hawkeye? Surely, you could put up with a half-life for her."

He could see a flicker of something in the man's eyes. Maybe he was finally getting through to the bastard?

"You don't understand." The older man shook his head, "You're so noble; everything's black and white for you. You still think like a child."

The words stung. Is that really what he thought of him after all those years or was simply lashing out? It was always hard to tell with him.

"And you're still an arrogant bastard," Edward spat. "You might be willing to die, Mustang, but that doesn't make it suddenly okay. What about all those you'll be leaving behind?"

_What about me? _Edward shoved away the treacherous thought wondering where it came from. _I don't need him. What did he ever do for me besides point me at danger? _

Edward's fingers trembled and he made a fist to stop the tremors. "You're just like Hohenheim, running away when the going gets tough, pretending it's all for the great good."

_You're going to destroy Riza, just like he destroyed Mom._

"You make it all sound so simple," Mustang said quietly. "You're a good man; you could never understand the depravity of humanity. The lows I sunk to can never be scrubbed clean. So many lives gone because I was too afraid to walk away from the military." He locked eyes with the younger man. "So – yes, I'm a coward."

"I'm so sick of listening to you wallowing in self-pity."

"And I'm sick of listening to you full stop."

The two men glared at one another.

Edward was surprised when Mustang was the first to back down and break the gaze.

Mustang sighed heavily. "What do you want me to say, Edward? I'm not going to change my mind."

He sounded tired and defeated, the fire in his eyes quenching as quickly as it came.

"You're an idiot."

"What makes me so special? You hated Scar for all his crimes. And I killed more than Scar ever did."

"I hate you too," Edward pointed out.

Mustang ignored him and continued, "And yet, you act as if I never had a choice. You always have a choice and I chose wrong."

"Scar killed out of revenge and hate. He got a perverse joy out of it."

"What makes you so sure that I didn't?"

"You've this haunted look in your eyes. You're good at hiding your emotions, but the eyes never lie. You think I don't know, but I can see that you carry that guilt with you. And you've been fighting for at least as long as I've known you to make Amestris a better place."

"When I got out of Ishbal, I swore I would make sure nothing like that war would ever happen again, but I still killed. I swore I'd make it to the top and make Amestris a democracy. A democracy gives a voice to the people and the people have decided my fate."

Edward rolled his eyes, "And what purpose does that serve?"

"Purpose?" His chuckle was a dark one. "I served my purpose the moment the country became a democracy. Now, I've got to pay the price. Equivalent exchange I guess."

"Are you really as cold hearted as that? You'd sacrifice everything for those that are already dead. There's nobody that will thank you."

"I can't do anything for those innocents whose lives I've taken," Mustang said softly. "I've been living on borrowed time since Ishbal. I always knew it would come to this and I'm not going to run away from repaying my crimes because it's the easier thing to do."

Edward shook his head disbelievingly, "Easier? I think you're running away from your guilt and instead of doing something productive with your guilt, you're wallowing in it instead."

Edward remembered that moment back on the Promised Day when the man was so overcome by rage and revenge that he almost lost himself in the pursuit of Envy. Hawkeye had pulled him back then, told him she would shoot him in the head and then put a bullet in her own.

There was a tic in the older man's jaw and Edward knew the man was fighting to keep his temper in check. He felt a perverse surge of satisfaction at the thought of getting under the man's skin.

Still, despite the danger signs, Edward continued, "The only person that has any hope of talking sense into you is Hawkeye. And she won't, because you two have a doomed masochistic romance going on."

"Fullmetal, shut the hell up," Mustang snapped. "Don't talk about her like that? Say what you like about me, but I won't have you accusing her of such things."

"Try and stop me! You're all bound, remember?" Edward glared at his former commander relishing the flash of anger in the man's eyes. _Yeah – you're not dead yet, bastard_. He jabbed a finger in his chest, "You're an idiot, and you're being selfish doing this. You and Hawkeye both have guilt issues the size of Father's god complex."

"We've a lot to be sorry for," Mustang said. "We swore we'd make things right, but there are some evils so great that all the good deeds in the world can't make up for."

"Nobody will benefit from this. Not Amestris and especially not Hawkeye." Edward softened his tone, hoping one more time to get through to the idiot. "She loves you. I don't know why, but she does. You're throwing her life away as well as your own you know. She'll never get over this."

"Don't!" He looked like a wounded animal as his face contorted in pain. "You don't know anything about my relationship with Riza."

Mustang turned in seat so that he had his back to Edward and the younger man knew he had pushed the man too far. The older man's shoulders trembled and Edward knew he had to get out of there. He couldn't watch the man in such a vulnerable state; it would seem indecent somehow.

"I've gotta go," the former alchemist mumbled, turning his back on the older man and scrambled out the door into the corridor. He couldn't look back even though he knew it was probably the last time he would ever see the man. He wanted to remember as the proud man he was once not the broken shell he had encountered in the prison. His head felt like it was about to split open and to his horror, he could feel heat gathering in the corners of his eyes. He found the rest room which was thankfully unoccupied and squeezed into a cubicle. He sat on the toilet seat and leaned his head on the cistern hoping the cool surface would help with his headache. Mustang had always been there as much as he has despised the man. Edward had always known that he could rely on the man to do the right thing. In the end though he was walking away like Hohenheim did so many years ago. Mustang was throwing his life away, and there were going to be so many broken by this. There was no point, it was suicide by firing squad. For what cause other than his piece of mind. _Stupid bastard._ There were still those who sought to use power to benefit themselves, terrorists that wanted to tear the state down and corruption in the military. Amestris still needed good men like Mustang. He wanted the smash that supercilious face in, beat some sense into the fool and howl at the injustice being done. Edward slammed his fist into the wall and his eyes watered. It was the pain caused by the impact not the idea of losing the man, who was the closest he had to a father figure. Of course, he'd never cry about that bastard. The tears Edward had been fighting against finally won the battle and he let them fall.

T be cntinued


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings/Triggers: Major Character Death, References to Suicide, Sexual Harassment

Ships: Royai, Win/Ed, Havoc/Rebecca, Alphonsel/May Chang

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and co.

"Part 3 - Wednesday" was written for Tumblr's FMA week.

Prompt: Reunion

Disclaimer: I don't own anything FMA .

**Wednesday 20****th**** February 1925**

**Riza Hawkeye**

Riza tried to fight the nausea that hit her as she walked in the prison lobby. She couldn't help but feel conflicted about seeing him again. She wanted to see him so much, but it would make everything seem more real somehow. Rebecca's company over the last few days had helped her function and get up in the morning. They didn't talk about Roy, though her friend prompted her to do so. Her relationship with Roy had always been private and she couldn't share it with anyone. Speaking with Alphonse was something she needed at the time, but she wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

"Excuse me." An angry looking woman glared at her. "What are you doing just standing in the middle of the doorway like that?"

Startled, Riza moved out of the woman's way, a blush on her cheeks; the woman almost knocked her over in her haste to leave the room. She had been standing in daze, so involved in her thoughts, she didn't notice what was going on around her. She had been doing a lot of that lately; she barely recognised herself these days. She realised that her fingers were trembling and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. Despite the sudden urge to turn around and walk away, she took a deep breath and steeled herself. _You have do this_. Madam Christmas had called her the day before and told her Roy wanted to see her. _Am I really ready for this?_ She walked up to the reception desk where a secretary was checking the list of visitors' names.

The woman smiled at her‚ "Who are you here for?"

"Roy Mustang is waiting for me ‚" she said. "I'm Riza Hawkeye."

The smile on the woman's heavily painted face faded and she gave Riza a look of pity. The former soldier bristled hating to inspire that emotion in anyone.

The woman pointed to a door on the far side of the room, "Go straight through that door there and take a seat. One of the guards will accompany you to the visitor's room."

Riza nodded curtly at the woman and made her way across the room. Her hand on the door handle, she took a deep breath before pressing downward on the lever. The door opened slowly, and she was gestured through by a red faced prison guard with a small moustache. The man's outfit was spotless and his name tag "Whitworth" shone brightly as if he spent hours polishing it every morning. She was standing at the top of a long white corridor. A second guard was sitting at a desk just inside the door.

"Sit," Whitworth ordered curtly. "Mr Osprey will check your forms are in order."

Osprey looked at his list and arched his brow at what he saw there.

"Riza Hawkeye?"

"Yes," she said stiffly.

"Here to see Mustang," he continued, looking at the other guard with a smirk on his face.

Riza quietly seethed, but squashed down her anger.

Osprey held out his hand, "Show me your notice!"

Riza opened her handbag and handed the man the visiting order. Osprey took his time reading through the order and she wondered if he was looking for a reason not to allow her to see Roy.

Whitworth sat on the seat next to her and his eyes bored into hers, "You were his right hand, were you not?"

She returned the man's stare, ignoring the ridiculous question.

There was a chuckle from Osprey. Her form was down on the table in front of him and had been stamped.

"Something to say Osprey?" Whitworth asked.

Osprey smirked, "I heard she was his favourite lap dog with a special set of skills."

Innuendo was dripping from his words, and Riza was suddenly very aware she was unarmed.

Skin crawling and unable to restrain her temper any longer, she got to her feet. "You've wasted enough of my time. Take me to him."

"Patience!" Osprey's smirk was even bigger now as he stood up and stepped out from behind his desk. "We'll need to search you, Miss Hawkeye. Stand with your arms and your legs apart."

Careful to hide the shiver, Riza reluctantly complied. Sometimes, she missed the deferential treatment that came with the military uniform and the rank. She had been respected as First Lieutenant Hawkeye, bodyguard and aide to the Flame Alchemist and was admired in her own right for being the best sharp shooter in Amestris. As just plain Riza Hawkeye, she was just another woman and these men knew it and were relishing the idea of humbling the famed sharp shooter. She bit her lip, determined she wasn't going to give these bastards the satisfaction of showing that they were getting to her. She flinched as Osprey's meaty hand brushed the underside of her breast; instinctively, her fingers reached for a fire arm that wasn't there. She kept her eyes on him; she longed to shoot the bastard or at least kick him in the balls. She would have done any other day, but she couldn't take the chance today, couldn't afford to give them an excuse to not let her see Roy. The guard worked his way down her body, lingering as he did so until he got to her mid-section. She stiffened. _The bastard's enjoying this. _Riza flushed in anger and embarrassment. Whitworth was looking on with lust filled eyes and undisguised voyeurism. The man's hand was now on her right hip and his other hand moved onto her left buttock.

Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "Can you hurry on? I don't have all day."

With a laugh, Osprey brushed her right thigh as he finally moved down her legs. She felt dirty, she never felt so demeaned in her life. As a minority in the military she had been no stranger to the misogynistic culture of Amestris. She had been regarded as a sex object previously, but her reputation as the best sharp shooter in the country ensured she was safe from any unwanted advances. Her guns would be out before they could try anything. There was also the fact that the Flame Alchemist would burn anyone alive foolish enough to mess with her. She resolved she wouldn't tell him of this humiliating experience, not wanting him to do anything foolish. Besides, she knew him well enough to know he would blame himself.

The guard finished his search. He paused for a moment and breathed in her ear.

"Your boyfriend can't save you now," he whispered.

Having enough of the sexist brute, she hissed, "Try something and I'll you leave you incapable of fathering any children."

There was a cough from behind her and Riza could see that two other guards had arrived. Osprey stepped away from her. The newcomers looked disapprovingly at Osprey.

The taller of the two spoke first, "What's going on here?" His blue eyes were cold behind his wire framed glasses.

"Just finishing the frisk," Osprey said. "Never can be too careful when dealing with traitors."

Riza bit down hard on her tongue; all she had to do was keep it together a little longer and she would be done with this odious man.

The heavyset guard with a large moustache that would rival even Armstrong's turned his attention to her instead. "Are you alright, Miss?"

Hawkeye nodded, "I'm fine."

"I'm Bentley and this is Morgan," the taller man said. "Miss Hawkeye, we'll take you to see Mr. Mustang now."

Riza walked down the corridor to the visitors' room in the prison. Bentley and Morgan accompanied her to the door of the visitors' room. Bentley turned and left leaving her with Morgan. As she walked into the room, she could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment when she saw Roy on the other side of the room. He gave her a forced smile that twisted her insides; seeing him in pain always had that effect on her. She wasn't surprised to see that his hands were tied in front of him and he was sitting at a table, there was an empty chair on the other side.

"No touching," Morgan warned. "We'll be watching."

She felt a stab of irritation at his words. Not trusting herself to speak she took a cursory look around the room, a well ingrained habit she had picked up in her years as a sharp shooter. Morgan joined the man that had been guarding Roy. The two men stood far enough away from Roy and Riza that they were afforded some privacy. Riza sat down on the chair facing Roy and pulled the chair as close as she could to the table. She was sitting knee to knee with Roy, barely touching but it was a small comfort nonetheless.

Roy smirked tilting his head in the direction of their watchdogs. "Sorry, they've gotten a little touchy since Fullmetal was last here."

Curiosity piqued and grateful to seize a topic that was anything else but the elephant in the room, she asked, "What did he do?"

He leaned towards her and whispered, "He kept loudly telling me in front of the guards that if I really wanted to escape it would be easy. That was after he decided to clock me. He's still a short tempered little runt, not that I needed reminding of course." He smirked and her heart skipped a beat. "He made the guards a little jumpy."

Riza couldn't hide her own smile and she raised an eyebrow, "And I bet you enjoyed every minute of it. For some reason you just love making him angry."

He answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "I take my victories, no matter how small they are." His mouth was smiling but his eyes told her he was hiding something. Sweeping his gaze over her, he adopted a more serious expression.

"You look terrible," he said softly. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

Taking in the dark circles under his eyes and his almost haggard appearance, her own mouth thinned, "I could say the same about you, and hazard a guess that you weren't eating well either." She paused, "Not that you ever ate properly."

"Yes - well, you're not here to remind me." He paused, before adding in a terrible imitation of a feminine voice, "Sir, you need to eat three full meals a day and no coffee doesn't count as a meal."

She knew he was trying to make her laugh, a defence mechanism she had seen him use thousands of times in the many years she had known him. She couldn't help but feel anger that he was still hiding from her. After everything they had been through together, he should know he could be honest with her. He was watching her intently causing her to lower her gaze to her hands on the table in front of her.

"Are you mad at me?"

She knew he wasn't asking about his terrible sense of humour, but she wasn't quite ready to answer that question. _I'm such a hypocrite, wanting him to be honest and not able to be so myself._

She looked up at him, his earnest expression almost undoing her. They sat like that for a few moments, just staring at one another saying nothing.

"I don't talk like that," she said at last, breaking the silence with something safe.

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't," she said. "I'm just thankful you've never followed by grandfather's example and taken to disguising yourself as a woman during missions. I'm sure you would have botched them all."

"Because all the men would have fallen madly in love with me. I'd make a damn gorgeous woman. I'd be irresistible."

"You're an idiot."

"Yes – I am," he conceded.

_Damn him, did he have to ruin the moment?_

He gazed at her intently. "And you've saved me from myself so many times. I just don't know what I do to deserve you."

The fond smile on his face both warmed her heart and broke it at the same time. How was it possible to feel so much for this one man? To her horror she could feel tears threatening to fall again. Again, she looked down at the table. She couldn't let him see her cry, see how weak she was without him.

"Riza," he whispered. His tone was husky, unlike anything she had heard directed to her before.

Despite herself, she looked up again, and his gaze was intense and she felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Dazed, she couldn't look away even if she wanted to. His eyes were wet just like hers, but he was meeting her gaze unflinchingly. Regardless, of all they had shared over the years, this sort of display of emotion was more intimate then they were used to. She opened her mouth to speak and no words came out. She was aware they were playing chicken, both afraid to say what they really wanted to say. Neither had ever been good at displays of emotion; they had years of pretending to be nothing more than very good friends, lying to themselves as well as everyone else. This silence somehow seemed more eloquent than she could ever be. How could she tell him that she wanted to hold him so badly, to feel him in her arms, to assure herself that he was still here?

She wanted to pretend for a few blissful moments that he wasn't going to be dead in a few short days and that they hadn't wasted years of happiness fighting their feelings as well as their enemies. Right now, despite all they had achieved in the last few years, everything else seemed unimportant and pointless in the face of his impending death.

"I really hate this," she whispered, somehow finding the strength to tear her eyes away from his.

Roy let out a completely inappropriate laugh and she shuddered at the sound. It wasn't the sound that filled her with sound. He sounded almost unhinged.

"Sir? Roy?"

"Lieutenant," he said, sounding almost jovial. "You know if we were married, I'm sure these men would allow us some privacy?"

"Don't joke about that," she snapped. "This is not the time."

_Not when what I want more than anything… _

He said nothing and just continued to stare at her, making her flush. She didn't know what was going on in his head and it scared her. As accomplished a liar as he was, she knew him almost as well as she knew herself.

He tilted his head, "Riza." He said it softly like he was relishing the taste of it in his mouth, like her name was something sacred, and suddenly she was terrified, even more so than she had been walking in the door. It was a deep, gnawing terror that tore at her chest, making it hard to breathe. _No, he couldn't do that now. Not now. _They'd been too careful. It was like Pandora's Box, a forbidden truth that had to remain locked away.

"Don't flirt with me like one of your cheap conquests," she hissed. "It's unseemly, sir, especially when we have company."

The stricken look on his face caused her to avert her gaze.

"That's not fair," he said. "I may not have been a monk, but you more than anyone know there's not been as many girls as popular opinion seems to think."

He paused and she could feel his gaze boring into her head.

"And more importantly, you know why," he added in a lower tone.

_No. No. No. _

"Might as well go to hell with all my sins confessed." He took a deep breath, "I lo-"

"Don't!" She lifted her head up slowly and she could feel the anger coursing through her. "You've asked me to do many hard things Roy Mustang and this is the worst." She slammed her hand on the table. "Please don't make it harder. Please!"

She could see the stubborn glint in his eyes and she knew the battle was lost.

"Riza, I love you," he declared. "I've always loved you, and I'm sorry."

_I love you too. _She bit down on her tongue hard. _Stop, please stop! _She didn't want this knowledge – this reminder of all that they had lost and wasted especially at this eleventh hour when the only use for it was to say goodbye. Fury was welling up within her. Neither of them were meant for love with their sins, their unclean hands, the blood they wasted; they had no right.

Roy carried on heedlessly ignoring her distress, "But I'm not sorry that I've loved you, but I deeply regret that being involved with me has brought you pain and that I've been too selfish to let you go."

"No – you don't!" She had finally found her voice and it was ice cool. Her voice was steady despite the bubbling of her emotions. Trembling with rage, she couldn't help the tint of accusation in her tone, "How dare you stand there and tell me that you love me! It's incredibly selfish."

Roy's expression pained her, but she couldn't look away. His eyes was wide, his mouth was open and his face had turned a milky white. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She had tried to keep her emotions in check. Now, they were bursting forth from her without paying any heed to her brain. Yes – she was angry and she was hurt. She was tired of hiding it all for him, from him. For once if he wanted truth, she was going to let him have it!

"You don't love me," she said, wiping away an angry tear with the back of her hand. She wondered when she started crying again. _Dammit._ She didn't want to cry, especially not in front of him. "If you did then you would be doing everything that you could to fight this."

He winced as if she slapped him across the face. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt at his obvious hurt.

The milky white of his face had turned to red and he narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring, "Do you think I wanted this?" His voice raised to match hers, angry but wounded.

"It certainly seems like it," she retorted snidely. She knew she was being unfair, but since when was life fair. Besides, he was leaving her behind to pick up the pieces. It was all well and good for him. Would he be able to watch her put a gun to her temple and fire it?

"I thought you understood, I thought you of all people would understand." The vein in his forehead was popping and he clenched his jaw. "You saw what I did in Ishbal. How can I fight this if this is what the people want?"

His voice tethered her in the red haze of her anger. If she was honest she was embracing the anger to run away from the pain. It was an easier emotion to deal with than the grief.

She put her hand through her hair. "What about what I want?" _Maybe I don't deserve what I want?_

Suddenly, the harshness in his expression disappeared, replaced by a pained acceptance.

"What I did in Ishbal made me a monster." His tone was soft. "I can never atone for my crimes."

"What have we been doing for the last number of years if we're not atoning?" The anger was beginning to fade away to be replaced again by a crippling and consuming grief.

He shook his head emphatically, "I can try to be a sort of man. But the quiet life in the suburbs would never have been for me; that was supposed to be Maes."

Riza felt a pang at the memory of their friend, but she knew how much worse that was for him. The pain of losing his best friend had never left him and it was still as fresh as ever. Maybe now even more so when he was facing imminent death. _Will that be me in a few short days_?

"He was a good man," she said.

"For all his faults," he added.

Their eyes met for a moment and they both smiled. She suspected he was remembering Maes' habit of showing everyone and anyone pictures of his beloved family.

"I'm glad he got to have what he always wanted." She could hear the crack in his voice as he spoke.

"Me too," she said.

Maes had always wanted everyone to be as happy as he and Gracia, always teasing Roy about getting married and often watching her with a twinkle in his eye when he said it. He knew not to be obvious of course because of fraternisation rules and more importantly he respected their decision to dedicate their lives to making right the wrongs they had committed, but there were times when even he couldn't resist trying to push them together.

Roy averted his gaze from hers, "After everything I've done with your father's alchemy, I've no right to love you."

"We've no right to love one another," she corrected him. He looked up again.

She wiped a tear from her eye. "Your crimes are my crimes, Roy. I gave you my father's research freely."

His dark eyes bored into her. "I wish you wouldn't blame yourself." Shaking his head vehemently, he continued, "I alone enlisted in the military and chose to gift my alchemy to the state. That wasn't your fault."

"I made the decision to join the military too. And I chose willingly to pull the trigger every time," she pointed out. "Just as I chose to give you my father's alchemy. I believed in you! I still believe in you even when you act like an imbecile."

He ignored her attempt at lightening the conversation.

"You believed in the wrong person," he retorted. "A better man would have deserted the military rather than be responsible for a genocide. I was a coward."

"You were wrong. We both were." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I know you're a good man," she insisted. She put her hand on his and squeezed his fingers. "We were both weak back then, but you've done so much good for Amestris since and Ishbal."

A baleful look from the guards reminded her of their no touching rule and she reluctantly let go of his hand.

"It'll never be enough," he replied with a melancholy smile.

And she knew Roy Mustang wasn't going to save himself. This had been his plan all along and was intent on following it to its end. His mission to be Führer and saving the country was only a detour along the way to a certain suicide mission.

"Sometimes, I wish you didn't believe in me. I've brought you nothing but pain."

She actually laughed much to her own surprise never mind his. He might as well ask her to stop breathing.

He watched her with his mouth agape. "Riza?"

Believing in Roy Mustang was second nature to her. Ever since he had confided in her those dreams of his.

"Riza? Are you quite alright?"

"What do you think?"

His slack jawed expression twitched into a smile. "I've figured it out. You're crazy, that's why you believe in me."

"How could I not believe in you? Sometimes, your stupidity astounds even me."

Frowning, he spoke again, "It's not that I'm not grateful, Riza. I just don't deserve such loyalty even if I act as if I earned it."

People had always misunderstood his quest to get to the top. It was the power of being able to do something for those less well off - making Amestris great not for the sake of the elite but for the common man. She might believe in him, but he didn't believe in himself. It was probably the same reason he had always instructed her to put a bullet in his head if he was ever to stray off his path.

She wished she could make him understand. She stared into his eyes as she spoke, "There were only two things that kept me going all these years: one was making amends and the other was you. I knew you weren't going to rest until you changed this country for the better. And I'm not the only one."

"I was the least I could do after everything."

Their work restoring Ishbal had hit Roy hard. She knew that he had hoped he would be able to exorcise his demons with the rehabilitation of the country, but it had done the opposite. She could recall many mornings when he was in the office before her looking like he hadn't slept a wink and sometimes his clothes would be wrinkled because he opted to stay in the office rather than go home and face his nightmares.

"But you're forgetting that you succeeded, Roy," she said gently.

"Then why does it feel like I haven't achieved enough? There's no equivalent exchange for what I've done."

She felt a lump in her throat, but she swallowed it down. The pair lapsed into silence once more and the rustling of papers in the far side of the room reminded her that they had prying eyes and ears, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

When she looked back at Roy again, he was starring avidly at her, "I would have asked you to marry me if the trial had gone the other way, you know."

The earnestness in his expression was disarming and she felt breathless. "I would have said yes, you know. I – I love you too. I think I've loved you almost as long as I've known you."

They both smiled fondly at one another. Silence was something that was rarely awkward between them.

His expression changed quickly into a more sombre one, "Promise me you'll live, Riza. Say you'll move on and be happy."

"It would be easier if I could hate you," she said, only half regretting her cruel words. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to. I can't imagine being without you."

She could read the pain on his face that her declaration had brought. A vein in his cheek twitched. "For once in your life, Riza, I don't want you to follow me. That's an order!"

"Pardon my insubordination, sir, but you're a jackass." She turned away from him, "Don't order me around. You lost that right the moment that you handed yourself over to be whipping dog of all that was wrong with this country."

Her eyes began to fill with tears and she couldn't look him in the face without breaking down completely. The one constant in her life was that she loved this man, would do anything for him and that he would be there beside her, providing the same love and care. In a few short days he would gone and she would be adrift, with no purpose and no hope. What else was there to do but follow him? She could feel his penetrating gaze on the back of her head.

"Please," she heard him say, but she wasn't sure if he was talking to her or the guards. "Have you no compassion? I promise I won't try anything. You have my word." She heard a clatter of chains, he must have tried to convince the guards to remove his bonds. She gulped as she heard him approach her, his chair scraping on the floor. He pulled his chair beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, his touch light and gentle. She knew he saw blood every time he looked at those calloused hands, but she saw in those hands what he had always wanted to use them for - protecting those he loved. Surprisingly, he made no move to turn her to face him even as her shoulders trembled as her tears turned to harsh sobs.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, his hand's gentle grip becoming firmer. "Please, Riza." His voice was filled with a plaintive need that tore at her heart.

"I don't think I can." She turned to face him and was struck by the glassiness of his eyes.

He shook his head, "You can't give up on life because of me. I'm not worth that."

"You're giving up, aren't you?"

He pulled her to him and she rested her head on his chest, his chin nestled in her hair. Once the moment of initial surprise had worn off, she closed her eyes and listened to the beating of his heart, relishing it, willing the moment to never end.

"You could be my eyes again," he said. "Someone has to see Havoc finally make an honest woman of your friend. And the Elrics might be grown men, but you know their penchant for trouble."

She let out a watery chuckle. "Some might say the same about you."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to this for them," he joked.

"That's not funny at all, Roy!"

"I didn't know if I was going to be able to see you," he said into her hair. "My aunt talked some sense into me, told me what I already knew. I had to see you, I couldn't die without seeing you again, but I was afraid that you were angry at me."

"I am angry, Roy. At you, at everything and above all at myself." She continued before he could interrupt. He needed to get some things off his chest and she did too. "I feel like I should have been able to do something to change this. How do you stop protecting someone you've been protecting for the best part of your life? And you know that wasn't just duty." She could feel his body tense up beneath her; she was glad she couldn't see his face. "You're the reason I became a soldier, I wanted to protect the country like you, and then I saw what the country had become and I wanted to change it. I knew you had it in you to achieve your goals and do some good. I decided there and then I'd follow you or die trying."

"Riza," he began, the hitch in his voice tearing at her.

"I'm not done talking," she insisted.

He said nothing, just held her closer. She didn't want to move from this position in his arms, his hand at her back, his lips on her hair. His heart beat softly in her ear. In a few short days, he would be gone and she would still be here, a shell of herself.

"What am I going to do without you?"

The very thought of it was unbearable.

"You're strong, the strongest woman I have ever known."

She didn't feel strong. She had never thought that she would have to make plans for the future. She had assumed she would die on duty or be executed one day. She had spent most of her life as a soldier in a military she despised and she had no idea what she could do with her life now. She was free for the first time to do what she wanted, but that meant nothing if the man she loved wouldn't be there.

"If I'm not a soldier, then what I am? If I am not by your side, what is there for me?"

He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from his chest. "Look at me!"

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes narrow. "You think you're nothing without me?" He let out a derisive snort, "I'm supposed to be the idiot!"

His expression softened as he looked down at her face, "You're the one that held me together, reminded me never to give up, that we needed to redeem ourselves."

She opened her mouth to speak and quickly shut it again. _Roy always liked the sound of his own_ voice.

"I could never have become Führer without you, never even made Colonel. You always knew what to say." He paused briefly as he wiped away a tear from her face that she hadn't noticed falling. "It makes me ashamed to think of all you've given me and the little I have given to you in return."

_Impossible man._

His hand was still on her cheek and she reached up her hand to his and moved it softly from her face. "You are an idiot!" She shook her head, "You gave me a purpose, something to strive for. You instilled in me those same dreams that you had yourself and I believed in you, trusted you would achieve them some day."

And he did. She was so proud of him, but the fact was that Amestris was still heavily influenced by a powerful elite.

He smiled sadly, "You don't think it's enough, do you?"

He always could read her mind.

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "Don't get me wrong. I don't regret what we've done, but it's disheartening to see some things haven't changed. This country might be a democracy right now, but some of the same people are pulling the strings."

"There will always be those that seek to abuse power and authority," he conceded with a shrug of his shoulders, "but at least now the power is with the Parliament. Amestris has a chance."

Perhaps it would have been kinder to lie to him, but she respected him too much to do so. "Humans are foolish, sometimes we vote for or support the wrong thing or even the right thing for the wrong reasons."

"Choice is the operative word, Riza. People have a choice to change things they don't like, vote in those they want and vote out those they don't. Amestris may not be a perfect place to live in, but I have to believe it's a better one than when the Homunculi were in power."

Riza didn't trust herself to speak. She could see where he was coming from but she really didn't see where they were better off in slightest. _I really wish I could believe you._ But how could the world possibly be a better place without Roy in it?

Alphonse Elric needed to clear his head and he was grateful for the chance to escape into the crisp, icy air. The Central air wasn't as fresh as that which was found in Resembool or Xing, but it helped his pounding head nonetheless. And truth be told, he needed the distraction too. He loved his wife dearly, but these days May fawned over him a bit too much. He knew that Mustang's plight was on her mind and she was dealing with her feelings through baking copious amounts of apple pies, his favourite dish. Strangely even with her tendency for being overbearing, his wife got on very well with Mustang. Alphonse chalked it up to the time she saved Miss Hawkeye's life at the expense of losing the philosopher's stone. Mustang had never forgotten her actions on the Promised Day just as she had never forgotten his desperation to save his Lieutenant. Just like Mustang's men, May and Winry had often gossiped about when Mustang and Miss Hawkeye would finally tie the knot, though neither of them were foolish enough to participate in Falman's gambling pool. Of course, both women were tactful enough never to make jokes at their expense in front of them, but that didn't stop them from doing so in other company. Alphonse had long suspected their attachment; he used to watch their soft expressions as they glanced at each other when the other wasn't looking. He knew fraternization was against the rules in the military, but he had always hoped that someday they might throw caution to wind and go for it. Not that Alphonse ever would have been reckless enough to voice that wish aloud, least of all to his brother, who would have loved to antagonise his superior.

Mustang's fate was weighing heavily on Alphonse's mind too. His brother wasn't taking the verdict well. Ed always had a quick temper, and it was very close to the surface these days. Embracing the rage meant he didn't have to think about other emotions, which was his brother all out, though you would think marriage and age would have mellowed him somewhat. Ed might talk a good game about how Mustang was an annoying bastard but Alphonse knew his brother better, because the older alchemist had become very important to them both. Mustang was the closest thing the boys had to a father since Maes had died. Hell, he was a better father figure than their own one had been. And that was why Edward was so angry. Alphonse had never thought that he would ever consider the man a friend. It strange how things turn out in the end. The more he had got to know Mustang, the more he realised that he was not just a good man but a great one. He was brave and would fight for what he believed in and breathe his last breath for those he loved; he reminded him of Ed actually. He knew both men would deny it from the rooftops, but they were a lot alike in many ways. Mustang's weakness was the same one that his brother had, a guilt complex the size of Amestris. At first, although he was the brother more likely to give the older man the benefit of the doubt, it was Edward that had the more contact with the man. Ed would come home ranting and raving after delivering a report and receiving a lecture from his superior officer for causing some damage with alchemy. Back then Mustang had kept a distance between him and Alphonse, although on reflection it was probably a combination between the older man not feeling comfortable ordering Alphonse about when he wasn't his subordinate and Ed being anxious to keep his younger brother out of the clutches of the military as much as much as possible. It wasn't really until after the Promised Day that he had gotten to know Mustang properly. The fact that his brother no longer practiced alchemy didn't mean he wasn't still interested in the theoretical aspect of the art and it was something the brothers could do together and in Mustang they found a surprisingly good mentor.

The evening was cold, Alphonse stuck his hands in his pockets and quickened his pace in order to warm himself up. He knew Havoc's girlfriend Rebecca was still staying with Miss Hawkeye from their brief conversation the previous day. He couldn't imagine what Miss Hawkeye was going through. If he was about to lose Ed or May or one of the kids, he wouldn't be able to function. She had held herself well until the verdict. The fearful look he'd shared with Havoc in the courtroom had made his realise they were both afraid of the same thing. Alphonse had always prided himself on being good at reading human behaviour and Havoc knew Miss Hawkeye much better than he ever would, and longer too. The fact that he was afraid she would do something foolish spoke volumes. Of course, Havoc was grieving too. They all were reeling from the verdict despite knowing form the outset that his chances of getting off were slim. Still, knowing and really knowing were two different things. Just as Ed and Mustang were alike, Alphonse was one of the few people that could understand what it was to like to love a hero. People like Ed and Mustang all put others before themselves, put their lives in jeopardy if they felt it was for a good cause. And then there were those like Alphonse and Miss Hawkeye that loved them, supported them and were left to pick up the pieces, to try to carry on. In some ways, he'd been envious of Miss Hawkeye in a way. She had always been at Mustang's back; Ed was a bit more protective of his little brother. This was the first time Mustang was going somewhere alone without her to support him and Alphonse knew it must be tearing her up inside just as it would him in the same position. It had been a long time coming to be honest. She was running around, making plans and trying to convince everyone that Mustang would be found not guilty. Lying to herself. A lie that allowed her to function until the reality of the situation came crashing down on her at the verdict. Alphonse could tell that Mustang was broken too. He couldn't forget the expression on the man's face as Miss Hawkeye fled the room at the trial, his dark eyes filled with anguish. Nevertheless, the memory of the man's face had been haunting him. Despite what his brother might say to the contrary, Alphonse couldn't question the man's bravery or pride. Somehow, he looked almost at ease despite his hands being tied and his feet manacled, mocking those that sought to humiliate him. In one moment Alphonse had seen all the carefully cultivated persona disappear when he watched Miss Hawkeye break down. He recognised that look in Mustang's face – the pain of knowing someone you love with all your heart is breaking inside and there is nothing you can do to protect them from the pain, and even worse knowing he was the cause of it. Alphonse was so lost in thought he almost walked right into an elderly man.

"Young people these day," muttered the silver haired old man.

"I'm sorry," Alphonse exclaimed.

The old man simply grunted and rushed off. Alphonse realised with a jolt of surprise that the military barracks were right up ahead. He must have been walking at a quicker pace than he thought. He had many memories of living there with Ed there – both good and bad ones, but it had been a long time since then and so much had happened. He headed towards the large gates at the front. Two men stationed at the gate watched him with undisguised suspicion. One was tall with a heavyset build and the other was small and skinny.

"What business do have you here?" the taller of the two men asked.

"I'm here to see Warrant Officer Kain Fuery" Al replied.

The two soldiers exchanged glances.

The first soldier spoke again, "You're one of those Mustang sympathisers, then?"

Al stiffened. "That's really none of your business, but I don't mind telling you that the new government are making a huge mistake. Mustang's a good man and what's being done to him is just plain wrong. The man has been fighting to right his mistakes since Ishbal."

"And making his way up the ranks while he was at it," the smaller of the men sneered.

"Yeah – he was really struggling," added the other man. "Had an eye for the ladies too, as far as I heard."

Alphonse's mouth twisted. If only they knew; the man clearly only had eyes for one woman.

Impatience getting the better of him, he stepped forward, "Can I got through now?"

"Make sure you pass our former Führer our very best regards," the taller man. "That is if you see him before he croaks."

The normally patient man was barely able to keep his temper in check. He bit his lip and took a deep breath, knowing that they were trying to rile him up. Laughing, the two men stepped away from the gate and waved him through. Alphonse balled his fists and careful to avoid their smirking gazes, he walked on through. He knew his brother would have decked the men regardless of the consequences. Ed may have mellowed some, but not that much. Ed was refusing to come to the execution. Alphonse could understand why he wouldn't want to be there but he feared Big Brother would regret that decision and he hoped that he would change his mind. It wasn't as if Alphonse wanted to be there either, but he knew that he should. Mustang deserved to see those he cared about one last time and he knew their friends would need them following the loss of their commanding officer. Mustang's old team was still very much a family.


	4. Chapter 4

Rating: Mature/NC17

Warnings/Triggers: Major Character Death, References to Suicide  
Ships: Royai, Win/Ed, Havoc/Rebecca, Alphonse/May Chang  
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and co.  
"Part 4- Thursday" was written for Tumblr's FMA week.  
Prompt: Family

**Thursday 21****st**** 1925**

**Jean Havoc: **

Jean Havoc stood at the front door of Riza's apartment building, his finger poised to press the bell. He wasn't sure just how long he had been standing there, but it had been a while. He was feeling numb; Roy was like a brother to him. He drove him to distraction sometimes, although he respected him and would have been one of the few people he would trust with his life. He didn't always agree with his decisions, but the one thing that always was true was that anything Roy did was that he did it for the right reasons. This time Havoc could see no right reason. Roy was like a bossy older brother to him. Like Riza, he couldn't bear to be in the military without his commanding officer and he wondered how the others managed to continue to put on their uniform and answer to someone else. While they were all devastated, Riza was hurting most of all. He always had a soft spot for Riza, even nursed a crush for her at one time or another. All of team had at some stage fell for the woman, but it was clear that the only person she had eyes for was Roy, and he for her. Stupid idiots wasted all these years pretending to be friends when anyone who knew them could tell how much they loved one another. Nervously, he licked his lips and pressed the button. He felt guilty that it took him so long to find the courage to go and see Riza since the verdict, but he was grieving himself and he couldn't bear to see the pain in her eyes. He knew it was selfish, and if it's wasn't for the fact that Rebecca was staying with her, he would have been unable to justify the cowardice. After a few moments‚ the door opened and Havoc made his way inside.

Rebecca and Hayate greeted him at the door.

He leaned in to kiss Rebecca on the cheek. "How are you holding up?"

He smiled wanly and he whispered, "As well as can be expected when one of your best friends is going to be executed the following day."

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, "I kind of feel like I'm abandoning you."

"Never mind about me. How's Riza?"

"More miserable than I've ever seen her," Rebecca answered truthfully. "She went to see _him_ yesterday and she's barely spoken since. I'm really worried about her."

"Me too," he said softly.

Hayate was busy running circles around his feet and he bent down to pet the little dog.

Riza's irritated voice drifted in from inside the apartment, "Quit talking about me and come on in."

"Riza!" Havoc stood up and looked over Rebecca's shoulder and Riza was standing with her arms across the chest. vRebecca was right, their friend certainly looked like death warmed up. She was pale and there were dark circles around her eyes, although her expression was devoid of emotion. Hayate bounded back into the apartment to his owner who picked him up.

"We're having a few drinks at Madam Christmas' bar tonight," he said. "We wanted to see if you two would come. We figured we might as well as be miserable together rather than alone."

Riza remained on the other side of the room and arched a brow‚ "I don't think I would be good company."

"None of us would be good company." Havoc chewed on the tooth pick trying to satisfy his cravings for a cigarette. It wasn't working. "That's kind of the point. The boys would love to see you."

Riza shook her head‚ "No – thank you."

Rebecca looked between them. "I'm going to the store to pick up some milk," she announced. "I'll take the little cretin for a walk."

At the word walk, Hayate immediately begin to squirm in Riza's arms.

Riza rolled her eyes but she let the wriggling dog escape her hold.

Hayate barked happily as Rebecca took out his lead. "Come on boy. You better get some exercise before you get too fat."

Havoc couldn't help a smile at her uncharacteristically subtle gesture giving them some time to talk between themselves. Riza opened her mouth but quickly shut it again. If it was to protest or catch Rebecca on her subterfuge, Havoc didn't know. The door slammed behind Rebecca and Hayate leaving Havoc alone with Riza.

"Why are you here?"

The fact that she was always to the point was one of those things he deeply admired about her. Her arms were still folded across her chest and she paced back and forth. He wanted to close the distance – the metaphorical and the literal -between them.

Her words wounded him. "What do you mean? You know why I'm here, Riza."

"Yes – I do," she admitted, "but I just want to be alone."

He noticed she kept her eyes anywhere but on him.

"Rebecca's here," he pointed out.

"Rebecca prefers to talk about the drawbacks of having a relationship with an idiot."

He placed a hand on his chest and put on his best hang dog expression, "Now – you don't mean me, do you?"

"Of course not – don't you know she's having a torrid affair with Fuery?"

"That's a low blow," he said with a chuckle. "You know you've got a lot of good friends looking out for you and we're worried, because we know how close you and Roy are." She had stopped her pacing. "You two are just the same; always taking everything onto yourself and trying to protect everyone but yourself. We don't want your protection, Riza; we just want our friend. We want to take care of you like you've taken care of us for so long."

"I'm fine on my own," he insisted.

"No one is fine on their own," he corrected her.

"I appreciate everyone wants to help." For the first time since he walked into her apartment, she locked eyes with him. Her eyes were blazing with unconcealed anger. "But you can't help!"

He instinctively stepped back from her, his mouth agape. "Fuck it, Riza-"

He knew she was just lashing out, but it was the truth all the same. And it hurt. The only thing that would save them all from this heartache would be to turn back time.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I'm sorry."

She turned her back to him, her shoulders trembling slightly and he wondered if she was crying. Frozen to the spot, he contemplated moving to comfort her, but he knew that the woman guarded her emotions like she protected Roy. She stifled a sob and he had moved half way to her before she turned around.

Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, "Did we do the wrong thing?"

He would have welcomed the anger rather than hear the pain and despair in her voice.

He shook his head, "Don't even think such a thing!"

"Then why does it feel like this whole thing was a mistake from the beginning?"

"Because he's doing this without you and leaving you behind," he answered.

She let out a little gasp.

"You always planned on going down together, right? We knew that wherever he was, you were."

"We wanted to make this country a better place and to make sure a war like the one in Ishbal would never happen again." She shook her head, "But how does this make things better?"

Havoc didn't know what to say to that, "We helped change this country. Don't say it was for nothing."

"What's the point if he isn't around to see it?"

"Riza," he started.

"Don't patronise me, Jean." She glared at him, somehow managing to look tearful and fierce at the same time. "You're no fool, you know that some of those that have been elected are no better than those fucking monsters we took down on the Promised Day. And Roy just wants to pretend that Amestris doesn't need him anymore, that we don't need him."

Havoc knew what she was really saying that he thught she didn't need him. _Oh Riza!_

Havoc knew that Rebecca had been waiting for her to fall apart, but maybe she needed to fall apart with someone who understood like he did. He could feel the pain of being unable to protect someone he had spent years protecting and while his relationship with Roy didn't go back quite as far as Riza's, he had been working for the man since shortly after Ishbal. But there were some things he knew she would never admit to even him.

He put his hand on her shoulder, "There's one thing we can do. Make sure that his death wasn't in vain."

She shook her head, "How on earth can we do that?"

"I don't know, but if there's one thing that Roy taught me, it's that nothing's impossible if you've got a good team behind you."

An hour later, Havoc and Riza were sitting side by side on the sofa with mugs of unsweetened black coffee in their hands. It turned out there actually was n milk after all. They sat in a comfortable silence, taking strength from each other's presence. He glanced over at her, her body language was less tense and he was glad he was there for her when she broke down. Hiding those emotions away were doing her no good. _I promise I won't be a coward again and I'll look after you._ She was such a strong woman, but even the strong needed to be weak sometimes. He knew he was guilty of forgetting that sometimes.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said.

She shrugged, "You're welcome. Thank you for being here."

He caught a faint blush on her cheeks.

"You have every right to be upset‚" he said. "You don't need to be embarrassed to let down your guard sometimes. You trust me, don't you?"

She nodded. "I know it's silly."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "If you need anything at all, let me know. Any of us will be there in a heartbeat if you ask. All we want to do is help. We can't do anything about Roy, but we can be there for one another. What else is family for?"

She gave him a little smile. He wasn't sure if his words would change the habit of a lifetime, but he hoped she at least knew that they were there for her. There was a click of the front door indicating Rebecca was back.

"Yahoo Riza!"

Rebecca walked in, Hayate at her heels. She was laden down with bags of groceries. Havoc jumped up to help her with the bags.

"That's a lot of milk," Riza said drily.

Havoc laughed and Rebecca swatted him lightly on the chest as he passed her to get to the fridge.

"It's a pity you are both so unappreciative when I was going to make us all dinner. Now your share of the food is going to go to waste."

Havoc's stomach rumbled as if in response. "Sorry beautiful, you know how my mouth runs away in me sometimes."

A little later, Havoc felt like his stomach was about to burst after a delicious dinner. Once he had recovered enough to move, he said his goodbye to Riza and Rebecca walked him out.

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks for looking after her."

She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at his face. "As if you needed to ask. She's my best friend!"

"I really hate this, Becca."

"I know." Her hand went to back of his neck and she pulled him down for a hard kiss.

Marvelling at his girlfriend's ability to turn his legs to jelly, he reluctantly ended the kiss. "We should stop. If you continue to kiss me like that, I might have to take you to bed."

Despite his words, they remained with their arms wrapped around one another.

She whispered in his ear‚ "Is it really awful to say that I'm just glad it's not you?"

Havoc's eyes swept the room for the boys. Madam Christmas' establishment was more upmarket than the one she had back in Central. Roy took the boys here on more than one occasion. The décor was reds and blacks and the girls were beautiful. Not that Havoc was interested in another woman when he had Rebecca, but he could always appreciate a nice pair of breasts. He spotted the old team finally in the corner of their favourite booth.

"No Riza?" Fuery asked.

"No – she didn't want to come."

"How is she?" Breda asked.

"I'm sure she can hardly be well, all considered," Falman commented.

Havoc refrained from rolling his eyes, "She's as well as can be expected. Becca's taking good care of her."

One of the Madam's girls put down four glasses of Scotch n the table in front of them.

"Thanks," he muttered.

He reached for his wallet when none of the others reached for theirs.

The girl waved it away. "It's taken care of."

The girl gave a small smile which didn't quite meet her eyes and walked away. He suspected the girl was upset by the developments and Havoc knew that every woman that the Madam employed was incorporated into the larger Mustang family. The bar was empty apart from friends of Mustang and the girls. It felt rather like a wake or funeral, but the Boss wasn't dead yet. He knew that Fullmetal had tried to convince him to make a break for it‚ but his commanding officer wasn't the type to do that no matter how much he wished that he would. Havoc examined his quiet companions, silent in their grief. Fuery looked as if he was about to cry as he stared into his glass. Falman looked grim, while Breda looked angry.

"This is ridiculous!" Breda broke the silence with his vehement declaration. "What are we doing here? Drinking to the memory of a man that isn't even dead yet?"

Havoc sighed. "It's only a matter of hours."

"Five days," Falman added. "I think they know the longer they leave it, the more opposition will grow."

"I don't understand it," Fuery said. "I mean most of the people were happy when he was the Führer."

"Maybe?" Falman shrugged, "Not the military, especially once his desire to make the country a democracy was known. He made a lot of enemies, those who wanted power for themselves as well as those supported and abetted Bradley and the Homunculi."

"Not to mention those who lost people in Ishbal," Havoc reminded them. "He always had plenty of enemies there considering his reputation as the Flame Alchemist."

"It's not as if they were protesting at the inauguration," Fuery continued in a pained tone. "Everyone knew his history back then and of what he did in Ishbal. They called him a hero, even. And now after he's done so much, they turn their backs on him."

"Even after rebuilding Ishbal," Breda added sombrely.

Breda clapped the kid's shoulder once and turned his attention back to the plate of nuts in the middle of the table. Havoc closed his eyes for a moment. Fuery was voicing everything they had all been thinking and he knew there was nothing he could say to comfort the kid. He might be a few years older than the Elrics, but in many ways they were older than he was. Incredibly sensitive and naive, Fuery was almost as idealistic as Mustang, though their Boss had been stripped of his naivety many years before, but no one could ever wipe away his ideals either and those fucking ideals were killing him. The men had lapsed into silence. Havoc was finding it difficult to pay attention to anything that was being said. He was zoning out regularly all evening. He was on his fifth whiskey and he had still searching for the elusive numbness.

The slam of Fuery's glass on the table made Havoc wince.

The younger man's fists were balled, "It's just not fair."

Havoc put his hand across the table and squeezed his shoulder, "I know, kid!"

Poor Kain was always a little naïve and he hero worshipped the Bossman. Havoc felt sorry the kid. Hell he felt sorry for everyone that was hurting in this mess.

He grabbed his glass and swigged the last of his whiskey. "Anyone want another?"

When he got no answer except shrugs in response, he made his way up to the bar. Madam Christmas must have gone into the back or left, because she was nowhere to be seen. Havoc couldn't help but feel glad that she wasn't there; he didn't know what to say. What did you say to a woman who was losing the man she loved as a son?

A beautiful blonde he hadn't seen before appeared at the bar in front of him, "How can I help, honey?"

"Whiskey on the rocks," he said. "A double."

"Are you one of Roy boy's men?" she whispered as she poured the amber liquid into a glass.

Havoc nodded and took the glass.

"It's a miscarriage of justice is what it is," she said quietly.

He reached a hand into his pocket to get his wallet.

"Put your money away," she said with a smile. "It's on the house! The Madam told us we were to take no money from you boys."

"Thanks." He took the glass from the counter, "Look after her. I think she's going to need it!"

The woman nodded‚ "We will. Don't worry the Madam is very dear to us girls as is Roy."

Another customer came to the bar and Havoc made his way back to the table. The air of despondency was still permeating the table.

As he returned to the table, Breda turned to Havoc, "How do you honestly think Hawkeye's holding up?"

"Not," Havoc replied truthfully.

Fuery looked up earnestly, "She'll be okay, won't she?"

Havoc couldn't lie, "I don't know, I really don't."

The silence descended again, and it wasn't the friendly silence among friends who knew each other so well no words were need to communicate. It was the sort that is borne out of unease, grief and a fear of what's to come.

Madam Christmas had a cigarette in one hand and a glass in the other. She was sitting on a leather armchair in her private living quarters at the back of her bar. Alone with her thoughts for the first time that day she had instructed her girls not to disturb her tonight; she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. It wasn't right to see her son die before her. She knew that Roy had many dreams and ambitions that put his life in danger and she knew his ultimate desire could result in an execution. Yet‚ her Roy boy had gotten out of many slippery situations before‚ she had started to believe he was invincible. Sadly‚ she was mistaken and despite her many years of experience and wisdom she had preferred to remain in denial. She drained her glass and reached for the bottle of whiskey.

_Roy‚ you fool._

She filed her glass to the top. She could hear the sounds from the bar below. She knew his men were after arriving. Vanessa had been by earlier encouraging her to join the men. No – she would be better on her own. She knew there was little likelihood of sleep that night‚ unless she could drink herself into oblivion. The knowledge of what was coming tomorrow weighed heavily on her mind. There was nobody prouder than she of all of his achievements and there had been many. Still, she was far from blind to Roy's faults and how the war in Ishbal had changed him from an idealistic young man to a driven and guilt ridden soldier desperate to make amends for his sins. Her eyes went towards the picture of Roy as a child shortly after he arrived into her life and turned it upside down. Chris Mustang had never imagined having a child herself and didn't consider herself to be maternal. However‚ he had managed to worm his way into her heart even if she had never met the boy before his parents perished. She took a much needed gulp from her glass. She couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if Roy had a family. If he had married Riza and had children perhaps he would fought this insanity. She knew that he had thought about marrying the woman and was kept his mother's engagement ring for her. But then maybe there would have been no difference because she was just as determined to punish herself as he was. If only things could have been different.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't belong to me.**

**Thanks for all the follows and favourites. I would love if you could make time to review.**

**Day Five: Friday 22****nd**** February**

**Roy Mustang**

It was strange to see the world going about its business when Roy knew he wouldn't live to see the end of the day. The birds were singing outside the window of his cell and the guards were discussing their plans for the weekend; the world would continue to turn without him. He never liked waiting for things to happen; he was a man of action, a soldier. Ever since he had been led away in handcuffs, he had been doing nothing but waiting and thinking. Roy sat on the small bed in the corner of the poky cell. The guards would be here soon to collect him and take him to his fate. He looked over the small table in the corner of the cell where he had whiled away the early hours of the morning writing letters. Sleep wouldn't come and as soon as he had enough light, he started to write his last will and testament along with a few scribbled letters. He found both distraction and solace as he wrote. He was leaving all his worldly goods to Riza and aunt of course, leaving Riza in charge of his estate. There was a special request to leave a stipend for Elicia Hughes, his pocket watch and his alchemic texts were to go to the Elric brothers along with a few other small bequests to his friends. He had his chance to say his goodbyes to Riza and his aunt even if he hadn't managed to say everything he wanted to. Then again he probably would never be able to convey the depth of his love for the two most important women in his life. Roy had never been good with dealing with emotion and he knew he owed so many people his gratitude. The letters were his chance to say things that couldn't have said in person. His last words with Edward were angry and he while it was to be expected considering their volatile relationship he had a lot to thank the little twerp for. Edward wouldn't have been in the mind-set to accept his thanks and those words he wanted to say wouldn't have come easy to Roy either. Edward and his brother Alphonse had become like family to him. He had accepted long ago that he probably would never have his own children even if he had convinced Riza to marry him; it would have seemed obscene to bring a child into the world considering those innocents his flame alchemy had killed‚ never mind that he had so many enemies that would put targets on their back as soon as they were born. Somehow the two brothers had filled that role in his life‚ but it wasn't something he had ever openly acknowledged. So many things to say and not enough time to say it. And it wasn't only the Elrics that he was in debt to. The group of his most trusted confidantes had been his pillar of strength throughout his career, believing in him always and supporting him; he didn't think he ever thanked them enough.

Roy heard the sound of footfalls from outside the cell. He could hear the usual hustle bustle of the morning rounds, keys jangling, the laundry trolley clanking amid the morning change of the guard. The familiar sounds of every morning did little to ease his state of mind. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. _At least, I got the chance to say goodbye, which is more than Maes got. At least, I got a chance to live when I should have died in Ishbal, should have died rather than kill all those innocents._

He noticed that the noise outside his cell had increased in volume and Roy suspected they had stepped up the security not wanting to risk their high profile prisoner escaping at the last moment.

"Right men!" he heard one drawl from the other side of the door. "We know how valuable this prisoner is to the new government and it's up to us to make sure this goes off without a hitch. The whole of Amestris will have an eye on us today and we can't afford to fuck this up. "

_I wonder if I ever sounded that pompous._ He snorted._ Probably_.

"He's a powerful alchemist‚ we give him a chance and he'll run like a rat."

To his shame he had thought about it. As he sat in the dark during the night, unable to sleep, he had let the thought cross his mind. He knew his friends would gladly abet him if he were to ask them; Riza would run with him and the others would risk their lives and careers just to give him a chance at a new life. He had even planned it in his head. All he needed to do was clap his hands together the moment the guards released his hands temporarily before binding them again when they would be taking him to the firing squad. But he couldn't‚ he had to see this through. He had already taken so much blood‚ he could hardly deny his victims his own. He wasn't a good man. His death would be worth it if it could stop another soldier being too afraid to stand against unreasonable orders. He would willingly serve as reminder of the cowardice and frailty of the human soul. He had helped make this country a democracy and he would not disregard the outcome. He desperately wanted to believe he was doing the right thing, but he was no fool. He could see that Amestris was far from the country he wanted it to become. He could at least comfort himself with the knowledge that with elected governments, the people had a voice at last. Since the reforms he had put in place, each of the main five regions of Amestris had elected parliaments and they had autonomy in certain matters in their own regions. Together these parliaments formed the government of Amestris ensuring each of the regions stood on an equal footing and with an equal standing. In matters of state security and economics the agreement of all of the regions was required and in all other matters majority consensus was sufficient. The democracy was new but it was healthy. The parliaments had been created prior to the complete dissolution of the office of the Führer and thus the military dictatorship allowing for a gentle transition. He could not regret the path he had taken to make up for the sins of his past. All those souls were doomed at his hand and he wished he had listened to Sensei Hawkeye and never foolishly believed that fire alchemy would be the means to protect Amestris. It was so destructive, just like he was; Fire consumed everything and left nothing behind but ashes. In the end, he did what he could. Not much had changed in the general running of the country since the formalisation of the democracy. There was a lot more to do. He knew that there were those that would help Amestris find its way. Although, he knew the pain his decision not to contest any charges was causing to those that he loved, he knew he had to do this.

The cell door squeaked open and four guards walked in. A cold breeze followed the guards into the cell. Roy started to shiver, he wasn't sure whether it was due to the breeze or something else. _S__o this is it at last‚ _he thought_. Pul__l yourself together._

A squat blond-haired guard that he recognised as Smith addressed him, "Are you ready?"

_Are you fucking kidding? _Roy had an urge to laugh at the absurdity of the question. He wasn't ready. He was however terrified out of his wits. _What's it like on the other side, Maes?_

He didn't even raise an enquiring eyebrow and he simply nodded. He got to his feet and waiting for the guard to untie the restraints to allow him leave the cell. His blood stained hands had earned him the name of monster, but he was human and the worst crimes were committed by humans not monsters. _I don't want to die. N__one of my victims wished to die either_, he reminded himself.

Roy shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his mind. One of the guards got onto his knees and began working at the chains at his feet, two more guards walking in training their rifles on him should he try something. Roy bit off a sarcastic comment. He had hoped that Bentley might be part of his guard today. It would be nice to see a friendly face, but since his aunt's visit he had not seem the man. He wondered had the man's kind act of untying his hands had gotten then man in trouble.

Roy's hands were roughly shoved to his back and he was bound again. Once this was done, his legs were released from the shackles. Two guards were standing in front of Roy with their guns cocked, while Smith and one of the other guards put their hands on his shoulders. The guard who removed the shackles stood up and then reached for the restraints on his arms. Roy's hands were free for one brief moment before his hands were pulled behind his back and were shoved into metal restraints. The cold metal dug into his back. In the periphery of his vision he spotted Smith nod to the other men.

Smith barked into his ear, "Move!"

"I'm not exactly in a rush to die. I'm sure you understand."

Smith shoved the butt of his gun into his back, "Don't get smart with me, you bastard."

Roy was propelled forward out into the corridor. Where a moment before there had been noise, there was now silence. He could feel all the eyes on his him as he passed through the cell block. The grey walls as uniform as he staring inmates and guards. It felt almost like a dream, time seemed to slow down. He might have believed he was trapped in a nightmare if it wasn't for the pain in his hands from how tightly the metal cuffs were cutting into his hands. A huge door was in front of them and Roy recognised it as the end of the infernal cellblocks. He wanted this to be over and at the same time he didn't. They walked through the door and a familiar voice called out. "Mustang!"

His head turned so quickly, he almost gave himself whiplash. His mouth dropped open at the sight of two of his former allies standing to his right. The guards came to a stop when they noticed who had called out to their prisoner. General Olivier Armstrong was standing next to Scar at the other side of the room. They might be an unlikely partnership, but he knew that the pair had been working together as representatives of their respective regions in the new Council. Roy also knew that despite their personal dislike of him they had spoken up in his defence. He was deeply grateful for their support no matter how reluctant.

"I must confess I'm surprised to see you two here," Roy said quietly.

"One of the disadvantages of our positions as representatives," Olivier replied with a scowl.

They were both members of the Council had been directly elected by the people to make those decisions the government couldn't agree on or those decisions that were deemed to be too politically divisive for the government to settle.

Scar looked intently at Roy. "I may not like or trust you, Mustang, but I at least do not believe this is the right course."

Roy didn't know what to say to this man, whose people he had slaughter in the name of war. He simply bowed his head.

Smith starred at Scar, "Of all people, one would think that you would want Mustang's head."

"You forget that I worked with him during the Promised Day," the man replied evenly. Looking the guard square in the eyes he continued, "Just because you greatly dislike someone doesn't mean you want him dead."

Olivier turned to Roy, "This is an injustice. Although, I think you're a bastard, I don't believe you deserve this."

"At least, you'll be able to check that I'm really dead."

His attempt at humour went down like a lead balloon. Scar and Olivier just glared at him. Maybe now was time for a little honesty?

"Thank you," he said. "I trust that you will make sure this government does right by our people and that you will protect them."

He didn't need to say who he meant. Olivier nodded and then sighed dramatically.

"For goodness sakeˌ" she said. She put her hand to her temple and saluted him, all the while the scowl on her face remained as pronounced as ever. He knew he must look like a goldfish with his gaping mouth. At another time he may have been moved to snark at her and relish the victory. This time, he found himself moved by the unexpected gesture of respect.

She looked around and glared impressively at the guards. "You're not to mention this to anyone ever."

Scar looked almost amused and that was a sight that Roy never thought he would see. "I'm just grateful that your hands are tied because I might have to shake them otherwise."

When Roy finally stepped outside, he looked up at the sky – blue, not a single cloud to see. It wasn't warm, a cool breeze blew at his hair. He was grateful that he had one last chance to see the sky, to feel the air on his skin and to be outside the walls of the prison. He looked around him and could see there was less spectators than he would have imagined. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. He was torn between wanting to see them one last time and hoping that they wouldn't be here to see his death. He would rather be remembered as he was then the pitiful creature he was today. There was a sudden silence as the spectators seemed to realise he had arrived. He found Alex Louis Armstrong ( his enormous size making it easy) and the Elrics first with their wives as he walked further into the courtyard. Both brothers looked stony-faced and their wives as tearful as Major Armstrong.

He must have slowed in his movements, because there was a forceful push at his back. "Move it Mustang!"

He almost keeled over, his bound hands affecting his balance. He spotted Madam Christmas next along with Doctors Knox and Marcoh. Both men stood at either side of her and he was grateful that she had support, not that she would ever admit that she needed it. He was propelled forward to the centre of the courtyard. One side was completely empty and he could see the spot where would breath his last. The firing squad were standing at the front of a barrier that had been erected to keep the spectators back. When they reached the post in the middle of the courtyard, two of the guards seized him by the arms and a third pointed a gun at his temple daring him to resist. The other member of his escort bent down on the stone to put his feet in manacles once more. Even now they were afraid he would run. Trying not to think about what was going on, Roy returned to scanning the crowd. His breath caught in his throat as he finally spotted Riza with Havoc, Falman, Fuery and Breda. He zeroed in on Riza's face, she looked dreadful and he could see the tears tracks on her cheeks even as she wiped them away. _I'm sorry._ He just hoped that he had gotten through to her when they last spoke and that she would let go and move on. He so desperately wanted her to find happiness, so that at least one of them could live a long and fulfilled life. Havoc put a hand on her shoulder and Fuery moved closer to her. He knew the boys would take good care of her, remind her how strong and amazing she was. He looked at his former subordinates and was filled with love for the men and woman that followed him into danger, stood fast at his side and were loyal to a fault.

_I'm sorry for the pain this will cause to you._

Suddenly, all five put their right hands to the forehead and saluted him. "Sir!"

Roy's mouth opened in shock before his lips formed a smile. "At ease soldiers!"

Smith snarled from behind him. "Shut up, Mustang!"

He looked at the firing squad and swallowed a lump in his throat. _I don't want to die._ The day was finally here to answer for his sins.

First Lieutenant Garrett

The vultures had gathered waiting excitedly for the moment of death; there was something about the nature of humans that revelled in the pain of others, especially in the destruction of a famous name. Then there were those who had never forgotten Roy Mustang's sins despite his charisma and heroism. Interspersed amongst the bloodthirsty were those who loved him. The man charged with ensuring the death of the alchemist looked around at the expectant faces. With fair hair and fair skin, he was the new poster child of the army, rising quickly through the ranks and marked as a possible General.

First Lieutenant Garrett knew that there were many who envied him getting the position of the first shooter in the firing squad for the execution of the Flame Alchemist. Some patted his back with an enthusiastic "Well done." Others sardonically queried, "Who did you have to fuck to get that honour?" Then there were those still loyal to the former Führer who said nothing but glared at him. It was true; it was hardly an honour, but he did feel it was his duty to do the dirty deed. Few knew the real reason he had volunteered to do the job. His heart was thumping as he made his way towards the front of the crowd, some of them simply buzzards feeding on the idea of watching the Flame Alchemist die, others close friends and family reeling in fear at what was to come. There were so many stories about the man before him and very few knew the difference between the fact and the fiction. Roy Mustang was an enigma, a contradiction. A hero and a monster, who razed Ishbal and raised Ishbal, a womaniser yet loyal to a fault. Garrett didn't really know him, but he knew an injustice was taking place and that a good man was going to die. How could he not after working for Brigadier General Hughes? _He told me Roy Mustang was going to change the world and he was right for a while at least. But we humans are prone to make the same mistakes over and over again._ Despite, all the good Mustang had done for the country and the people, he was being sacrificed for this new Amestris, where alchemy was something to be feared not revered. He might have made mistakes in the past, but it was clear the man carried that guilt with him in rejuvenating Ishbal. The least Garrett could do was to make sure the man died with as much dignity as possible intact. There were many people who would offer a more painful death had they been given the opportunity. However, General Olivier Armstrong still held a lot of sway in the temporary government and she had ensured he had gotten the task in hand. He felt sick at the thought, although it wasn't as if he had never taken the life of a man before. However, this time he knew this man should not die. Was this how Mustang had felt back in Ishbal? He watched as the man locked eyes with his subordinates, who looked inconsolable. Yet, the man still carried himself proudly with an arrogant air as undignified his position happened to be. The fact that he looked unruffled bothered some of the crowd.

"They should burn the son of a bitch. It would be apt for a monster like him."

"There'll be enough flames where he'll be going."

They didn't see the tell-tale trembling of the man's fingers or the way his gaze kept going to his subordinates in the front row especially his bodyguard, First Lieutenant Hawkeye. He wasn't in Investigations for nothing, like his former commanding officer he was good at reading people and seeing the nuances that others missed. Mustang seemed to be trying to get her to look at him, but she kept trying to avoid his gaze. He kept his eyes on her, boring into her skull until she looked up. Garrett could see the shadows beneath her eyes, the haunted expression in her face and he wondered if those rumours about Mustang and his second in command were true after all. The pair seemed to be having a silent conversation conducted entirely through expression. Garrett had to look away; he felt he was witnessing something very intimate. He trained his gaze on the other members of Mustang's supporters instead including Madam Christmas, Doctors Knox and Marcoh and other faces he recognised from the trial.

Garrett was shoved in the back, "Go on, it's time."

He was loath to do this, but he was aware that there would be no shortage of volunteers to do the deed. He approached the man from behind and Mustang froze, sensing his presence. He moved to face the man. Some would use this opportunity to give him a painful death. Others would use it to perform a show. He just wanted to give him a quick, painless death.

Mustang's dark eyes opened wide in recognition, "Garrett!"

Up close the man looked like he had barely slept in weeks or eaten in days.

Garrett held up the brown, cloth sack in his hand‚ "I need to put this over your head."

The man nodded and looked relieved. "Save everyone the sight of seeing my brains splattered into the air."

"It'll be quick, sir," he whispered in his ear as he started to put the sack over his head.

"Wait," said Mustang.

Garrett paused for a moment as Mustang took one last lingering look at his loved ones before settling his eyes on Hawkeye. Then he closed his eyes, "Continue, I just wanted to look one last time."

Garrett finished pulling down the cloth sack and gave a Mustang a surreptitious clap on the back when he was sure no one could see.

"Hah," came the reply from beneath the black sack. "Hughes is still looking after me even from beyond the grave. I'm glad it's you, Garrett."

The man took his place next to the rest of the squad. Garrett knew he had to hit his mark first time or his comrades would riddle the man with bullets. He cocked his rifle and he heard an intake of breath from behind him. Mustang was smart enough to know not to move from position to ensure the bullet hits its mark. Sure enough he was standing absolutely still. All it took was one bullet to take the life of Roy Mustang. He was dead before his body crumpled to the ground.

From the moment of the execution the MPs immediately began to clear the crowd. He could see the group of Mustang's supporters, bowed faces, some of them strewn with tears. Maes' wife Gracia had her hand on the shoulder of Hawkeye‚ who was visibly trembling. He wanted to go over and pass on his condolences but he wasn't sure if he would be welcome given the glares he was receiving from some of them. He was about to turn around and leave when Major Alex Louis Armstrong beckoned to him. The Major was flanked by two young men, one blond and one brown haired with distinctive golden eyes. There was a family resemblance and he quickly surmised they were brothers. The blond haired young man was scowling openly.

"What are you doing here?" The young alchemist practically exploded after seeing him approach. "Come to gloat?"

"Edward Elric," admonished Major Armstrong.

People immediately looked their way when they heard the Major's booming voice.

Garrett cursed himself for not realised that this was the young alchemist that saved Amestris on the Promised Day and the boy Hughes had been so fond of. Then the other man must be his younger brother Alphonse.

Edward fixed his glare on the Major instead.

Armstrong ignored the glare and continued in a lower voice, "The First Lieutenant here volunteered to do the job, because he wanted to make sure it was as quick and as painless as possible."

Edward snorted, "Yeah, like Mustang's a dog that's no longer useful and needs to be put down."

Alphonse gasped, "Brother, what a terrible thing to say!"

"Terrible but true," a desolate voice from behind them added. "That's what the new government think anyway, though I might add dangerous to that."

They all turned to see Riza Hawkeye standing there. Edward's face fell as he realised she had heard his ill-spoken words.

"I didn't mean," he blurted, his face turned beet red. "I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath, "There's no need to apologise."

She turned her red rimmed eyes to Garrett instead. "I saw you talk with him earlier." She managed to sound cool, but he could hear the almost break in her voice. "I remember you. You were one of Brigadier General Hughes' men, right?"

He nodded stiffly, "That's correct. I thought he would have wanted me to help his best friend any way I could. I couldn't really do much."

"I'm sure he appreciated it," she said softly. "It was quick at least."

Her eyes moved back to where Mustang's body lay under a sheet and her lip trembled before she drew herself up straight. It made him feel uncomfortable to hear her thanking him for delivering the bullet that killed her friend. Garrett couldn't help but feel for this broken woman, but she held her head high like the man she protected for so long. She nodded at him and walked towards the door. Alphonse and Edward's attention quickly to her retreating back. He noticed that the other men from Mustang's team were watching her apprehensively before Havoc and Alphonse followed the woman. If there was ever an example of the family bond between these people, it was this. What was it that Hughes had said? Mustang would strive to get to the top, in so doing protect as any people as he could, and they in turn would protect others. They may not have been able to protect him but they could protect one another and hopefully the country too.


	6. Epilogue

**Disclaimer****: I d****o****n't ****own anything. ****Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and co.**

**Author's****note: **Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed. I have been blown away by a the support and welcome I have been given in my first attempt at writing for this fandom.

I'm feeling very emotional writing the chapter and letting go of this story. I had to chop a lot and I had so much I wanted to say. I hope that this is a fitting end to this exercise in pain.

**Epilogue**

It had been three days since Roy Mustang had died – thirty six hours since he breathed his last. Sitting on the front porch of Pinako Rockbell's home, Riza Hawkeye wrapped the long black coat around her trembling form. Roy had left his great coat at her apartment the last time he had called prior to his incarceration. She could still smell his favourite cologne from the inner lining. It helped her feel close to him; there was little comfort she could take in the few days since her world fell apart. Nobody mentioned the fact that she was wearing a coat that was clearly too big for her and she was happy not to draw attention to the fact. Sentimentality like this wasn't normally like her, but then she had lost a part of herself when Roy had been taken from her. Here she was acting for all intents and purposes like a bereft widow, although she has no right to the title. She should be ashamed but she couldn't really bring herself to care. She was numb to everything, merely going through the motions. The last few days had passed in a haze of fog; she co_uld bar_ely r_emember the j_o_urney t_o Resembool. Resembool was to be Roy's resting place and she had the Elrics to thank for that. Even though Gracia had kindly offered a place in the Hughes family plot, Riza had declined reasoning that it was better he be laid to rest somewhere private, away from people who may wish to desecrate the former Führer's grave. Ed and Winry had kindly offered to let Roy be buried in a private plot near their local cemetery and they had even insisted on paying for the plot. The body was released without much fuss by the new government, claiming it was a small gesture of good will. Riza couldn't remain indoors with the rest of the funeral party, she needed to be on her own. Of course, her faithful dog had followed and she found some solace in his company. Dogs love unreservedly, they don't remind you that you still have a life to lead, ask you how you are and watch you with looks of pity. Instead, dogs are just there for you, listen without interrupted and don't judge you for your choices. True unconditional love. Hayate licked her fingers sensing her unsettled mind. The dog had barely left her side. This clingy behaviour was unprecedented for her well trained pet. Hayate put his head on his mistresses' lap and Riza absentmindedly stroked his ears. She knew she was being unfair to the others. They were mourning too and desperately wanted her to be alright. That expectation was something she couldn't deal with. She wasn't okay, and right now she couldn't forsee a time when she would be again. She wanted Roy back and that was impossible.

Lost in her thoughts, Riza didn't notice Edward coming out the door and standing behind her until he put his hand on her shoulder.

She could guess why he was here but she wanted to avoid the inevitable a little longer. There was a lump in her throat. "It's beautiful out here."

"I was lucky to grow up here," he said, a soft smile on his lips. "We're moving back here permanently now that that the trial is over. Granny needs someone to look after her and this is the best place for our kids to grow up."

"I guessed as much. You were never really happy in Central."

"We'll all have to go soon," Edward said.

"I know." She looked up and sighed. "Where's Madam Christmas? I've barely seen her since we arrived."

She hoped that someone was taking care of the woman. She knew she should seek her out for Roy's sake, but she couldn't bring herself to, too wrapped up in her own grief and guilt.

_Another way in which I've let you down, R__oy__._

"She left after breakfast with Doctor Knox_,"_Edward explained. He watched her_,_ she could sense his apprehension. "I think she wanted to have a look at where he'll be laid to rest."

"Oh!" A fresh pang of pain hit her at the reminder that they would be putting him in the ground. It was just so wrong. Hayate nuzzled at her leg with his nose.

Edward clenched his fist, "I'm so sorry. He was a good man and he didn't deserve this. You don't deserve this."

"Please Edward, don't." She closed her eyes. "I'm barely hanging on by a thread at the moment and I just need to get through today. After that.."

"You'll get through this – one day at a time," he finished.

She wished she believed that. _Roy, would you forgive me if I follow you?_

Supressing a sob and blinking away a tear, she kept her gaze averted. _No, I need to keep it together_.

Riza summoned the courage from somewhere within herself and raised her gaze to Edward again, "I don't think that I've said this. Thank you for arranging this‚ Edward. I really appreciate everything you've done. I didn't know where to start." Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.

"There's no need to thank me." Edward shrugged his shudders. "I owe the bastard for a lot of things." He coughed uncomfortably.

"Still‚ I think he would be touched."

Edward's cheeks went red and Riza was reminded of the boy that he had been.

"He cared about you and your brother," she said. "Even if he didn't show it. He left a letter for you."

"He did?" His eyes opened wide. "But I was angry at him. To tell the truth I said some awful things to him the last time we spoke."

His voice trailed off.

"Roy was used to your temper," she pointed out. "He wanted you and your brother to have his state alchemist's watch and his books."

"Don't you want to keep the watch at least?"

She shook her head. "No‚" she said firmly.

It was a symbol of all that was wrong in their lives. Alchemy drove her father away‚ seduced Roy into becoming a state alchemist and ended in them both serving in Ishbal.

"If you're sure?"

"It's what he wanted."

The sound of the horse and cart approaching indicated she couldn't procrastinate any longer. _It was time to take Roy on his last journey._ She stood up suddenly and swayed for a moment when her knees buckled. Edward put a hand on her elbow to steady her.

"I'm fine," she insisted and pulled her arm away.

"I'm going to go inside and let the others know that the driver's here." His golden eyes were concerned. She knew what they were silently asking,_Will you be okay here?_

She just nodded at him and stuck her hands into the coat, her fingers caressing the folded piece of paper in the pocket. She hadn't worked up the courage to read his last words for her. For once she had read those words, there would be nothing else to wait for. His scent would fade on this coat with time and his voice would dim in her memory. She had pictures, of course, but how long before she would have to look up a photograph to remember his face. Moments later, Havoc was at her side and Rebecca at the other while Falman, Armstrong, Breda, Fuery, Alphonse and Edward carried the coffin out of the house followed by Gracia, Elicia, May and Winry. Riza could feel her blood turn to ice and there was a rushing sound in her ears.

_"__Promise me you'll live."_ Shaking, she forced herself to step forward. "I can't!"

"Riza," Havoc said softly and put his arm around her. "You can do this. You need to for him."

"I know," She pulled away from him. "But I'm not as strong as everyone seems to think I am. Why am I always the one left behind? And why did I get to walk away scot free?"

She inhaled deeply and tried to compose herself. Riza had left no more than a few tears fall. _I have to do this._

The mourners had begun to drift off. The rain was drizzling down and the air was damp; one of those days that Roy felt useless on. She felt useless now. His resting place was beautiful, out of the prying eyes of the public or those who would seek to desecrate it. He was buried behind the graveyard beside a large knotted oak tree in a grassy hillside overlooking Resembool. The six former soldiers of Mustang's unit stood side by side at the grave. Hands went to their foreheads to give the man the last salute he would ever receive. The five men took turns hugging Riza before taking their leave like most of the other funeral guests. Riza made no attempt to leave, tears falling down her face. She started when Madam Christmas sidled up to her and took her by the hand. Riza squeezed it back. Both women took comfort from their mutual loss although neither woman was used to public displays of affection. The same grief was visible on both women's faces in their red rimmed eyes and . Alex Louis Armstrong approached them with a somber expression and put out his hand to shake the older woman's.

"It's a travesty‚" Armstrong declared. "No parent should ever have to bury their child. It's unnatural."

He turned to Riza and she went to take Armstrong's outstretched hand but she found herself enveloped by the kindly alchemist instead. She tensed up in his embrace uncomfortable at the contact. For once he seemed to sense her unease and let her go.

He put a large hand on her shoulder, "If you need anything you can always come to me."

She simply nodded and said nothing not trusting herself to speak.

Armstrong bowed his head. She knew he meant well, but it was discomfiting to see the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve. In a way, she envied the ease with which he accepted his emotions unreservedly and wore them on his sleeve.

"He's a kind man‚ not made to be soldier." Madam Christmas watched the man's retreating back before her eyes returned to her nephew's grave. She put her hand to her mouth in an attempt to smother a sob. "Of course, I wasn't there at his birth but he was as good as my own."

"He knew that," Riza reassured her, swiping at her own eyes.

Madam Christmas stared at Riza for a moment like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. She reached her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a small box. "This belonged to my sister in law, Roy's birth mother. I was waiting for him to man up and ask you to marry him after he became Führer. I guess I thought you might quit once he reached the top, that or move teams so that the fraternisation laws wouldn't be an issue."

Riza bristled at her words. "I couldn't leave his protection to anyone else and I didn't want to leave his command."

Her eyes filled with tears knowing that she had put paid to that wish by insisting that she continue as his bodyguard. She thought she couldn't trust anyone else with his safety but it turned out she should never have trusted herself. _I was supposed to protect you. _Her shoulders began to shake and she knew the dam she had constructed was just waiting to shatter under the onslaught of her emotions.

The Madam's eyes bore into hers. "He could have repealed the fraternisation rules?"

"The fraternisation rules might be inconvenient, but they are there for a good reason," Riza said cooly. "Besides, it would have reflected badly on him to repeal the rules and then begin a public relationship with me."

"True" Madam Christmas nodded and held out the box, "Take it. He would have wanted you to have it."

When the Madam placed the box in her hand and Riza tossed it back at her as if it burnt her‚ "I can't."

"You don't have to look at it until you're ready," the older woman insisted. "Take it away and put it somewhere safe."

Trembing, Riza wiped away a tear and reluctantly took the box, shoving it into the pocket of her coat.

"Sorry – I don't mean to upset you, especially today. I know how important he was to you."

"He'll always be important to me," she snapped. She couldn't bear to hear people referring to him in the past tense.

"Is something wrong?" Gracia had come up behind her and was standing beside her.

"Everything's wrong!" Riza squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them she noticed Madam Christmas had left them. The cracks in her armor were showing and she didn't know how to shore them up again. She looked up to see Gracia's concerned expression, a woman who knew full well what she was going through. Yet, she had muddled through‚ and with a child to look after it must have been so hard. Somehow, Riza couldn't help but feel a little envy that she had blood and flesh reminder of their love. Ashamed of her jealousy, she reminded herself that she would not wish to inflict such a thing n a child and that she had no right to grieve like a wife when they were nothing more than comrades and close friends. Yet, her heart didn't care what her brain knew to be true. How had Gracia got out of bed in the morning and face the day? How had she find the strength to look after her daughter when Maes was gone? Riza's reticence and the fact that they weren't close friends didn't allow her ask those questions.

"Roy was one of the best men and truest friends I've known." Gracia put her hand on her shoulder. "If you need anything at all, please let me know."

Riza nodded. "Thank you, but I need to be on my own right now. Please."

Gracia turned around and left her. Riza stared at the gravestone that Edward had created. She ran her fingers over the engraved stone.

"Roy, why did you have to leave me?" she asked in a whisper.

She wrapped her arms around herself and finally succumbed to the tears she had been trying to suppress. She sank to her knees in the grass and reached into her pocket finding the courage to finally read the letter he had written to her. She wiped at her tears with her other hand. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to regulate her breathing. When she opened her eyes she saw a pair of back shoes on the ground by her knees.

"Riza?" Havoc's gentle voice alerting her to who it was. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She didn't look back at her friend. Her fingers trembled around the letter in her hand. "Please‚ I need a few minutes."

"Jean‚" Rebecca's voice said softly‚ "Riza will call us if she needs us."

He gently squeezed her arm before releasing her.

"We'll be waiting for you‚ honey." Rebecca whispered in her ear.

She was grateful for her friends' support and understanding. She listened to their footsteps as they walked away. She took a deep breath and unfolded the paper.

_"__Dearest Riza,"_ she read‚ "_This is a lot of pressure‚ trying to write under the watchful eye of prison guard and with a pencil with my wrong hand no less. I hope you can decipher these scribbles._

_You've been more than my Lieutenant, aide and bodyguard; you have been my best friend, my confidante, my rock and_one of_two most important people in my life. I hope you know this."_

_Oh Roy!_ She blinked away her tears and her heart ached.

_"__You never needed my protection, but you had it nonetheless. I'm sorry I'm not there to offer it anymore. One of my biggest regrets is that there was never any time for us. My goals always took precedence."_

_Roy, you fool, they were my goals too. _A tear dropped on the paper and suddenly she was sobbing, her pain finally finding a voice. She put the letter aside for a moment unable to see through her tears again. She found some perverse satisfaction in the physical pain of her sore throat and exhausted eyes_._

When she thought she could bring herself to read once more she picked up the letter.

_"__I'm also incredibly embarrassed about how sentimental I'm being, though I suppose impending death does that to a man. I was made into a monster by the military, but with your help I learned to be a man again."_

_"__You're not alone, never forget that. You have a lot of people who love you. Let them._

_Yours always‚_

_Roy"_

She wasn't sure how she was going to get through today let alone tomorrow. She sl_o_wly got up‚ took one last look at the freshly dug grave and took a deep breath to steady herself. "Goodbye Roy."

The End

End note:

Again thank you so very much.

I have written a nicer and more happy fic with Roy and Maes friendship and a dose of Royai and Maes/Gracia if you need something to soothe the pain. It's called Signed up for life if you want to check it out.


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